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 so
 For she sailed down Lough 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 salt seas to roar
 Till the day that my darling sailed away from Culmore

 To the bad parts of America my love I'll go and see
 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