| From sweet Londonderry, oh, to fair London town
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| There is no better harbour anywhere to be found
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| Where the children each evening are round the seashore
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| And the joybells are ringing for the maids of Culmore
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| The first time I saw my love she passed me by
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| And the next time I saw her she bade me goodbye
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| And the third time I saw her she grieved my heart sore
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| And she sailed down Lough Foyle and away from Culmore
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| To the north parts of America I will go my love see
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| Where I will know no one, oh, or no one knows me
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| And it’s if I don’t find her I’ll return back no more
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| Like an exile I will wander from the maid of Culmore |