Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

I wish I had taken more photos today.

My brother and I, after a hearty lunch at Blue Glass (pricey but delicious), decided to head to Newcastle, Co Down to meet up with Mum, Dad and little sister who had travelled down a little earlier in the day.

I think I found a new appreciation of the placed today. In spite of driving through some torrential rain on the way (you can see it in the distance in the photo below), the wee seaside town seemed to escape most of it and remained sunny. It gave us a chance to see the wonderful Mourne Mountains in all their splendour! I think we will go back soon to the mountains themselves for a good walk.


The new promenade is fantastic. Such an improvement over when I was there last. And when it comes to food ou can even find a few nice bistro style pubs and decent coffee shops. Newcastle has gone an got itself a new suit and wears it so well! Carrickfergus Borough Council take note!!

I also learned today that it was a William Percy French (1854-1920) who wrote 'The Mountains of Mourne' song. Some of the words are etched into a steel memorial to the man so I got a chance to read what it was all about. So for those of you who only know the last line of each verse - here is the rest of the song!

Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes, nor barley nor wheat
But there' gangs of them digging for gold in the streets
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 found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball
Faith, they don't wear no top to their dresses at all.
Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in trath
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary Macree,
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 O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at 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 waitin' for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.