The Maid of Culmore

The Maid of Culmore

From sweet Londonderry, Oh, to fair London town,
There is no better harbour anywhere can be found,
Where the youngsters each evening are round the sea-shore.
And the joy bells are ringing for the maids of Culmore.

The first time I saw my love she passed me by,
And the next time I saw her she bade me goodbye,
And the third time I saw her she grieved my heart sore,
As she sailed down Lough Foyle and away from Culmore.

To the North parts of America I will go my love see,
Where I will know no one, oh, nor no one knows me,
And it's ifI don't find her I'll return back no more,
Like an exile I will wander from the maid of Culmore.