| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | In my | memor | y I will | always | see |
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| B | F# | C# | | The | town that | I have loved so | well |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | Where our | school played | ball by the | gasyard | wall |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | And we | laughed through the | smoke | and the | smell |
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| B | C# | F# | F#/F | F#/Eb | F#/C# | | Going | home in the | rain, running | up the | dark | lane | |
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| B | B/Bb | Abm7 | C# | | Past the | jail | and | down behind the | fountain |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | Those were | happy | days in so | many, many | ways |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | In the | town I | loved | so | well |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | In the | early | morning the | shirt factory | horn |
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| B | F# | C# | | Called the | women from | Creggan, the Moor and the | Bog |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | While the | men on the | dole played a | mothers | role |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | Fed the | children and | then | trained the | dog |
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| B | C# | F# | F#/F | F#/Eb | F#/C# | | And when | times got | tough there was | just a | bout e | nough | |
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| B | B/Bb | Abm7 | C# | | But they | saw | it | through without com | plaining |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | For | deep in | side was a | burning | pride |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | In the | town I | loved | so | well |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | There was | music | there in the | Derry | air |
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| B | F# | C# | | Like a | language that | we all could under | stand |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | I re | member the | day when I | earned my first | pay |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | And I | played in a | small | pickup | band |
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| B | C# | F# | F#/F | F#/Eb | F#/C# | | There I | spent my | youth and to | tell you | the | truth | |
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| B | B/Bb | Abm7 | C# | | I was | sad | to | leave it all be | hind me |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | For I | learned about | life and I'd | found a | wife |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | In the | town I | loved | so | well |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | But when | I re | turned how my | eyes have | burned |
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| B | F# | C# | | To | see how a | town could be brought to its | knees |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | By the | armoured | cars and the | bombed out | bars |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | And the | gas that hangs | on to | every | tree |
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| B | C# | F# | F#/F | F#/Eb | F#/C# | | Now the | army's in | stalled by that | old gas | yard | wall | |
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| B | B/Bb | Abm7 | C# | | And the | damned | barbed | wire gets higher and | higher |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | With their | tanks and their | guns, oh my | God, what have they | done |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | To the | town I | loved | so | well |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | Now the | music's | gone but they | carry | on |
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| B | F# | C# | | For their | spirit's been | bruised, never | broken |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | They will | not for | get but their | hearts are | set |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | On to | morrow and | peace | once a | gain |
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| B | C# | F# | F#/F | F#/Eb | F#/C# | | For what's | done is | done and what's | won | is | won | |
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| B | B/Bb | Abm7 | C# | | And what's | lost | is | lost and gone for | ever |
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| F# | C#/F | B/Eb | F# | | I can | only | pray for a | bright, brand new | day |
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| B | F# | C# | F# | | In the | town I | loved | so | well |
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