The Maid Of Culmore

From the sweet London Derry to the fair London town,
There is no finer harbour any where to be found,
Where the children each evening are playing round the shore,
And the joy bells are ringing for the maid of Culmore.

 Oh the first time that I met her she passed me by,
 And the next time I met her she bade me goodbye,
 And the last time I met her she grieved my heart sore,
 When she sailed down Loch Foyle and away from Culmore.

Oh if I had the power the storm for to rise,
I would blow the wind harder and darken the skies,
I would blow the wind harder and make the salt seas roar,
On the day that my love sailed away from Culmore.

 Oh the first time that I met her she passed me by,
 And the next time I met her she bade me goodbye,
 And the last time I met her she grieved my heart sore,
 When she sailed down Loch Foyle and away from Culmore.

To the north of America for my love I will seek,
For there I know no-one and no-one knows me,
And if I never find her I'll return home no more,
But like a pilgrim I will wander for the maid of Culmore.

 Oh the first time that I met her she passed me by,
 And the next time I met her she bade me goodbye,
 And the last time I met her she grieved my heart sore,
 When she sailed down Loch Foyle and away from Culmore.