You beat me to it, Malcolm, but here is what I already typed ready to paste into Mudcat. I see we have some diferences and you could be right in your choice of words. "furore" is pronounced "furory" in the song, the way Allie typed it. My prepared message for Allie was:

Your "something Irish" is Columbkill (Colm Cille, Dove of the Church, who founded monasteries in Derry and Iona).   "sad farewell" could be "bade farewell" (past tense of bid, rhymes with sad) and you're right about "Christian sway" (sway =influence). I've listened to the Brolly's LP (old and not in good nick) and I think the last lines are
He ne'er forgot the life before him,
Boyhood scenes, oakgroves so green ...

In verse 3, "bob" makes sense because a "bob" used to be colloquial for a shilling. In the 1980s we still called a 5-pence piece a "bob" and talked about 5 or 10 "bob". If the verse is about men serving British or other foreign armies, that could be like saying they "took the King's shilling". Francie Brolly sings "trumpet's call" though Foster and Allan might sing "bugle's call"

You've got the first and last verses okay now that the place names are sorted. We've got a serviceable song now (even if a few words are changed). It would still be nice if you get a good reply to your e-mail, Allie.

FAREWELL TO DERRY
Francie Brolly

For wandering man since time began
Has yearned for native soil,
So sorely grieves the man who leaves
His homeland by the Foyle.
To preach the word, to battle danger,
Praise the Lord, and serve the stranger,
Day by day they sail away
And bid farewell to Derry.

Sweet Colm Cille remembered still
The noblest of his clan
In the dawning day of Christian sway,
Life exiled from this land.
Though kind the Scot and high the calling,
He ne'er forgot the life before him,
Boyhood scenes, oakgroves so green,
And bade farewell to Derry

In later days when battles blazed,
Engulfed lands large and small,
Our reckless men left Foyle's sweet glen
To answer trumpets' call,
Left babes and wives for wars furore,
And gave their lives for others' glory.
Wanting jobs they took their bob,
And bade farewell to Derry.

And still they leave,
So soon to grieve for Foyle and friends and home;
Nor gold nor fame e're break the claim
Of the place from which they roam.
The Waterside, the flowing river,
The Bog and Creggan haunt forever
Wandering ones, the love-torn sons
Who bid farewell to Derry.