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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.
