| G | C | Am | |
| Oh, Mary, this London's a | wonderful | sight |
| D7 | G | |
| With | people here working by | day and by night |
| C | Am | |
| They don't sow potatoes nor | barley nor | wheat |
| D7 | G | |
| But there's | gangs of them diggin' for | gold in the street |
| D7 | G | Em | |
| At | least when I asked them, that's | what I was | told |
| G | Em | Am | D7 | |
| So | I just took a | hand at this | diggin' for | gold |
| G | C | Am | |
| But for | all that I've found there, I | might as well | be |
| D7 | G | |
| In the | place where the dark Mourne sweeps | down to the sea |
| Verse 2: |
| I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed |
| As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed |
| But if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball |
| They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all |
| Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth |
| Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath |
| Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary McRee, |
| In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea |
| Verse 3: |
| There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind |
| Beautiful shapes Nature never designed |
| Lovely complexions of roses and cream |
| But let me remark with regard to the same |
| That if at those roses you venture to sit |
| The colors might all come away on your lip |
| So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me |
| In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea |
| Verse 4: |
| You remember young Diddy McClaren, of course |
| But he's over here with the rest of the force |
| I saw him one day as he stood on the strand |
| Stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand |
| As we were talking of days that are gone |
| The whole town of London stood there to look on |
| But for all his great powers, he's wishful like me |
| To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea |
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