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