This is a version by Alison Humphries - Gorgeous Irish lady who I met in Staines Folk Club and now resident in Canada

Dear Paddy! Why thanks for your speedy reply
To th letter I sent you a year last July
It arrived here last night, about midnight or so
For I heard a great crash from the doorstep below
Where the postman had dropped in a state of collapse
He'd been wandering for days with a compass and maps
he's not been for so long, he'd forgotten the way
And the mailbox! All cobwebs and moss and decay.

Now, cerebrally-chellenged you always have been
But you're right round the bend now, it's plain to be seen
For only the stupidest person alive
Would go 'digging for gold' on the M25
And, "they don't grow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat"
For you get them in Sainsbury's just up the street
These days you get pizza, with garlic bread free
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

Well! That Danny McLaren! Where did you get him?
You said that I knew him but I've never met him
But Peter McLaughlin, I'll never forget.
All that stuff with the sheep and the russian roulette
It's a wonder they gave him that early release
and to think now he's head of the London Police
Well, I've sent all the details to breakfast TV...
what he did by the Mournes sweeping down to the sea

Now it's true, a concern I may well have expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London are dressed
I'm in fahion design, as you know without doubt,
but accounts of your lust I can well do without.
For you tell me they're topless, these girls you're befriending
Well, if those are the parties that you've been attending
I'll kick you from Kilburn to Donaghadee
All the way down the Mournes and right into the sea.