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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