Leaving sweet lovely Derry for fair London town,
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There is no finer harbour all around can be found,
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Where the youngsters each evening go down to the shore,
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And the joy bells are ringing for the maid of Culmore.
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The first time I saw her she passed me by,
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And the next time that I saw her she bid me goodbye,
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But the last time I saw her it grieved my heart so,
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For she sailed down Loch Foyle and away from Culmore.
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If I had the power the storms for to rise,
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I would make the wind blow out and I'd darken the skies,
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I'd make the wind blow high and the salt seas to roar,
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Till the day that my darling sailed away from Culmore.
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To the bad parts of America my love I'll go see,
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For it's there I know no-one and no-one knows me,
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But if I don't find her I'll return home no more,
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Like a pilgrim I'll wander for the maid of Culmore.
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Maid of Culmore
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| Cara Dillon |
