[00:02.394]Londonderry air[00:14.959]Frederick H. Martens,[00:17.217]Arr. Ralph L. Baldwin[00:18.720][00:21.256]I know the downs are white with apple blossoms[00:33.040]That float and fall from off the twisted bough[00:44.139]I know the downs are white with blossoms[00:55.750]O how I long for Londonderry now.[01:06.783][01:08.342]The shamrock coyly raises its little head[01:19.176]With dewdrops glowing on the sunlit plain[01:29.981]In my dear homeland now the apple bloom is white[01:41.782][01:42.785]Ah, would that I were there again.[01:57.860][02:21.458]There is no air as fragrant as the breeze blown[02:33.498]Across the Foyle, my heart will ever vow[02:44.050]There is no thrush whose note has such a sweet tone[02:54.849]As warbles on a Londonderry bough.[03:04.645][03:06.152]There is no stream can equal the dancing Foyle[03:17.975]Its beauty glowing on the sunlit plain[03:29.013]In my dear homeland now the apple bloom is white[03:40.783]Ah, would that I were there Again.[03:59.340]