Roddy McCorley

See the fleet foot host of men
That speed with faces wan
From farmstead and from fishers cot
Along the banks of Bann
They come with vengeance in their eyes
Too late, too late are they
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today

Up the narrow street he steps
Smiling, proud and young
About the hemp rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung
There was never a tear in his blue eyes
Both sad and bright are they
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today

When he last stepped up that street
His shining pike in hand
Behind him marched in grim array
A stalwart, earnest band
For Antrim town, for Antrim town
He led them to the fray
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today

There was never a one of all your dead
More bravely fell in fray
Than he who marches to his fate
On the bridge of Toome today
True to the last, true to the last
He treads the upward way
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today