"The Mountains of Mourne"

"The Mountains of Mourne" by Percy French (1896)

Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight,

With people all working by day and by night.

Sure they don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat,

But there's gangs of them digging for gold in the street.

At least when I asked them that's what I was told,

So I just took a hand at this digging for gold,

But for all that I found there I might as well be

Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

I believe that when writing a wish you expressed

As to know how the fine ladies in London were dressed,

Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball,

They don't wear no top to their dresses at all,

Oh I've seen them meself and you could not in truth,

Say that if they were bound for a ball or a bath.

Don't be starting such fashions, now, Mary mo chroi,

Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

I've seen England's king from the top of a bus

And I've never known him, but he means to know us.

And tho' by the Saxon we once were oppressed,

Still I cheered, God forgive me, I cheered with the rest.

And now that he's visited Erin's green shore

We'll be much better friends than we've been heretofore

When we've got all we want, we're as quiet as can be

Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

You remember young Peter O'Loughlin, of course,

Well, now he is here at the head of the force.

I met him today, I was crossing the Strand,

And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand.

And there we stood talkin' of days that are gone,

While the whole population of London looked on.

But for all these great powers he's wishful like me,

To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.

There's beautiful girls here, oh never you mind,

With beautiful shapes nature never designed,

And lovely complexions all roses and cream,

But let me remark with regard to the same:

That if of those roses you venture to sip,

The colours might all come away on your lip,

So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waiting for me

In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea..

I obtained this lyrics from source page:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mountains_of_Mourne#Lyrics

these lyrics under the public domain

 Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License

license:  

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/

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The Wild Colonial Boy

Irish lyrics


There was a wild colonial boy,
Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland,
in a place called Castlemaine
He was his father's only son,
his mother's pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love
the wild colonial boy


At the early age of sixteen years,
he left his native home
And to Australia's sunny shore,
he was inclined to roam
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor,
he shot James MacEvoy
A terror to Australia was
the wild colonial boy


One morning on the prairie,
as Jack he rode along
A-listening to the mocking bird,
a-singing a cheerful song
Up stepped a band of troopers
Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him,
the wild colonial boy


Surrender now, Jack Duggan,
for you see we're three to one
Surrender in the Queen's high name,
you are a plundering son
Jack drew two pistols from his belt,
he proudly waved them high
I'll fight, but not surrender,
said the wild colonial boy


He fired a shot at Kelly,
which brought him to the ground
And turning round to Davis,
he received a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart,
from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him,
the wild colonial boy




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