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I have been in great Cathedrals
Up and down our land,
I have seen their Pomp and Splendour
And Ritual so grand,
I have knelt before their Altars
And in their pews I've prayed,
I have seen their great Memorials
As down their aisles I've strayed,
I have heard their bells a-calling
The Faithful into Prayer
Although I've gone and worshipped
My heart was never there.
I've heard the sweetest music
From their organs swell,
But my heart was in that little Church
The one I love so well.
It stands in Londonderry,
Upon the City Wall,
Nestling among the trees
The grandest of them all.
It has no lofty tower
It has no steeple tall
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The Altar is not marble
It's made of wood quite plain,
Oh! When shall I return for good
To worship there again?
To see good Doctor Trimby
Touch the organ keys,
And hear the choir a-singing
The hymns that always please.
To hear Mr Mac. The Rector,
On each Sabbath day,
Lead those lowly Irish folk
As they kneel and pray.
To sit among those folk,
The faces known of old,
The Scouts, the Cubs, the Rovers,
I'd give all this world's gold.
I know I'm one of many
Who feel like that today,
As we work and fight for freedom
In places far away.
But some day in the future
We'll all come marching home |
