Lyrics:

Oh, Mary, This London''s A Wonderful Sight**lf**with People Here Working By Day And By Night**lf**they Don''t Sow Potatoes Nor Barley Nor Wheat**lf**but There''s Gangs Of Them Diggin'' For Gold In The Street**lf**at Least When I Asked Them, That''s What I Was Told**lf**so I Just Took A Hand At This Diggin'' For Gold**lf**but For All That I''ve Found There, I Might As Well Be**lf**in The Place Where The Dark Mourne Sweeps Down To The Sea**lf****lf****lf**i Believe That When Writin'' A Wish You Expressed**lf**as To How The Fine Ladies Of London Were Dressed**lf**but If You''ll Believe Me, When Asked To A Ball**lf**they Don''t Wear No Tops To Their Dresses At All**lf**oh, I''ve Seen Them Myself And You Could Not In Truth**lf**tell If They Were Bound For A Ball Or A Bath**lf**don''t Be Startin'' Them Fashions Now, Mary Mochree,**lf**in The Place Where The Dark Mourne Sweeps Down To The Sea**lf****lf****lf**there''s Beautiful Girls Here, Oh, Never You Mind**lf**beautiful Shapes Nature Never Designed**lf**lovely Complexions Of Roses And Cream**lf**but Let Me Remark With Regard To The Same**lf**that If At Those Roses You Venture To Sit**lf**the Colors Might All Come Away On Your Lip**lf**so I''ll Wait For The Wild Rose That''s Waitin'' For Me**lf**in The Place Where The Dark Mourne Sweeps Down To The Sea**lf****lf****lf**you Remember Young Diddy Mcclaren, Of Course**lf**but He''s Over Here With The Rest Of The Force**lf**i Saw Him One Day As He Stood On The Strand**lf**stopped All The Traffic With A Wave Of His Hand**lf**as We Were Talking Of Days That Are Gone**lf**the Whole Town Of London Stood There To Look On**lf**but For All His Great Powers, He''s Wishful Like Me**lf**to Be Back Where The Dark Mourne Sweeps Down To The Sea