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Mountains of Mourne, Don McLean - beautiful version with captions

Don McClean sings a beautiful version of Mountains of Mourne.   / discoverulster   The lyrics to the song were written by Irish musician Percy French. "The Mountains of Mourne" by Percy French (1896) The lyrics to the song "The Mountains of Mourne" were written by Irish musician Percy French. It is normally sung to the traditional Irish folk tune Carrigdonn or Carrigdhoun (as it is sometimes spelt). This was the same tune used by Thomas Moore (1779–1852) for his song "Bendemeer's Stream". The song is representative of French's many works concerning the Irish diaspora. The Mourne Mountains of the title are located in County Down in present-day Northern Ireland. The song is a whimsical look at the styles, attitudes and fashions of late nineteenth century London as seen from the point of view of an Irish labourer from a village near the Mountains of Mourne. It is written as if the singer is sending a message to his true love back home. The "sweep down to the sea" refrain was inspired by the view of the mountains from Skerries in north County Dublin. It contrasts the artificial attractions of the city with the more natural beauty of his homeland. LYRICS 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 chroí 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..