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The Girl From Derry City
By Peter McDonald. The city of Derry, previously (and in some sectors still called) Londonderry, is the second-largest city in Northern Ireland, behind Belfast. Though situated in the Protestant-majority North, Derry is 70 per cent Roman Catholic--giving the city its nickname "Holy Derry." But Derry is full of ironies. In 1690 King James II, England's last Roman Catholic monarch, was denied entrance into the city by the "apprentice boys," a group of young apprentice craftsmen firmly backing James's Protestant opponent, William of Orange. James was forced to flee to France, and William became William III of England, ruling jointly with his queen, Mary. Derry also served as the backdrop for the start of the latest round of Ireland's "troubles" when riots protesting civil rights indiscretions erupted on October 5, 1968. It was the scene of "Bloody Sunday," January 30, 1972, in which 13 civil-rights marchers were gunned down during a peaceful protest (a fourteenth died later). And Derry's most illustrious citizen, John Hume, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1998, along with his Protestant counterpart, David Trimble. And it was where I was wed, May 7, 1988 to "The Girl From Derry City."
 
You touch down at Dublin Airport, and your eyes turn toward the North,
To the final destination, and the bus it brings you forth,
Through Slane and then Drumcondra, and past Carrickmacross,
Then after Castleblaney, there's a border to be crossed.

Then weaving through the Northern towns, Aughnacloy and Omagh, too,
Strabane and up the winding hill 'til a steeple comes in view.
And a smile it forms across the lips as the city it appears,
And it won't be long 'til I've seen the girl who answered all my prayers.

She comes from Derry City, where the Foyle waters flow,
Far above the Sperrin Mountains and the valleys down below.
Where people come together to do what they must do,
She comes from Derry City, and Derry, God bless you.

'Twas in a seaside village, in far Amerikay,
I met her on the promenade, and this to me did say,
"I am from Derry City, and proud I am to be,
And if you'll hold my hand awhile, I'll let you stroll with me."

Yeah, she comes from Derry City, where the good folk come and go,
And the walls they speak the ages of a time so long ago,
From the Bogside to the Waterside, to the North where it meets the sea,
Lives the Girl From Derry City, and she's the girl for me.

On a brilliant day in April, when the city comes alive,
We'd walk up to the Diamond, and the shops we'd go inside.
We'd look out o'er St. Eugene's, then walk down hand in hand,
To catch a waiting taxi, that takes us home again . . .

And that lovely springtime morning, in St. Mary's on the hill,
We promised to each other to cherish and fulfill.
Now we stroll through life together, in far Amerikay'
She's my Girl From Derry City, and with her I shall stay.

She comes from Derry City, where the Foyle waters flow,
Far above the Sperrin Mountains and the valleys down below,
From Brandywell to Abercorn, and Creggan neighborly,
Lives the Girl From Derry City, and she's the girl for me.

I'm talkin' Derry City, and Derry ever more,
A short run out to Errigal, on Donegal's rocky shore.
Where the people are so beautiful, so wonderful to see,
She comes from Derry City, and she's the girl for me.

I love the Girl From Derry City, and Derry shall be free.


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