Oh See the host of fleet foot men who speed with faces wan.
From farmstedt and from fishers cot along the banks of Bann.
They come with vengence in their eyes, too late, too late are they,
For young Roddy McCorly goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.

Up the narrows 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 McCorly goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.

When he 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 McCorly 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 in Toomebridge town 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.



--------------------------------------
Thanks to (Colin Walsh (scan)) for correcting these lyrics. Mar 15, 2009