Maid of Culmore

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 that 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 out

and I'd darken the skies,

I'd 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 seek,

For it's there I know no one

and no one knows me,

But if I don't find her

I'll return home no more,

Like a pilgrim I'll wander

for the maid of Culmore