Traditional
From sweet Londonderry, oh, to fair London town
There is no better harbour anywhere to be found
Where the children each evening are round the seashore
And the joybells 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
And 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, or no one knows me
And it's if I don't find her I'll return back no more
Like an exile I will wander from the maid of Culmore
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