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