The Celtic Tenors The Mountains of Mourne [Lyric Video] 

Embark on a journey through the picturesque landscapes of Ireland with The Celtic Tenors as they pay homage to the iconic Percy French classic, "The Mountains of Mourne." Originally penned by the prolific Percy French, whose lyrical genius has left an indelible mark on Irish culture, "The Mountains of Mourne" is a heartfelt ode to the beauty of the Irish countryside and the enduring spirit of its people. The Celtic Tenors bring their rich harmonies and emotive delivery, sure to stir your soul and transport you to the rolling hills and verdant valleys of County Down. Watch The Celtic Tenors' lyric video for "The Mountains of Mourne" now!
This is our version from the album; The Celtic Tenors - An Irish Songbook reissued March 1st, 2024
Listen here ▶ lnk.to/ishbk
Four unreleased tracks:
Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears
The Isle of Innisfree
The Salley Gardens
The Dutchman
Embark on a journey through the heart of Ireland with "An Irish Songbook." Featuring a captivating blend of traditional Irish folk melodies, this re-released collection unveils the rich tapestry of Ireland's musical heritage with renewed vigor. At its core lies the poignant focal track, "Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears" a stirring narrative that chronicles the spirit of Annie Moore, the first immigrant to tread upon America's shores through Ellis Island. Through poignant vocals and evocative instrumentals, The Celtic Tenors manage to capture the bittersweet essence of leaving behind one's homeland for the promise of new beginnings.
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Lyrics:
Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With the people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes
Nor barley, nor wheat
But there's gangs of them diggin' 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 diggin' for gold
But for all that I've 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 how the fine ladies
In London were dressed
But if you'll believe me
When asked to a ball
They don't wear a top 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
Where the mountains of Mourne
Sweep down to the sea
You remember young Peter O’Lachlan, of course
Well, here he is now at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street
With one wave of his hand
And there we stood talking of days that are gone
While the whole population of London look down
But for all his great powers
He's wishful like me
To be back where 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 of roses and cream
But O’Lachlan remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The color might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waiting for me
Where the mountains of Mourne
Sweep down to the sea

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