Roddy McCorley
Oh see the fleet-foot host of men
Who bet with faces one
From farmstead and from fishers' cot
Along the banks of Ban
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 stepped
Smiling proud and young
About the hemp-rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung
There's ne'er a tear in his blue eyes
Forbland and bread world they
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today
When he last the dark 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's never a one of all your dead
More bravely fran 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 upwards way
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today