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Cathy Jordan
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The Banks of the Foyle
I know a wee spot, it's place of great fame
it lies to the North, and I'll tell you its name
its my own native birthplace, and it lies an Irish soil
and they call it lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle
I courted a wee girl, her age was nineteen
She was the fairest young maiden that I'd ever seen
her cheeks were like roses and here hair waved in coil
and she came from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle
but then cruel misfortune drove me from home
'twas my fate in deep sorrow to sail over the foam
and now from dark strangers, in grief I recoil
I was fearing that another had a place in her heart
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and that from my darling forever I would part
that no more would she brighten with her sweet sunny smile
my home in lovely Derry on the banks of Foyle
but a wee bird came flying from over the sea
and he brought me a letter from my true love to see
saying 'come home, my darling, to your own native soil
and we'll wed you in lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle
Now when I make a fortune, then its home I will go
to the dear land of my childhood, to the sweet one I know
I will build her a mansion, and no more will we toil
far away from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle
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