Roddy McCorley

See the host of fleet foot men
Who sped with faces wan
From farmstedt 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 streets 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 the last stepped up the 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’s never a one of all your dead
More bravely died in fray
Than he who marches to his fate
On the bridge Toome today
True to the last! True to the last
He treads the upwards way
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today