Roddy Maccorley

See the fleet foot, host of men will speed with faces wan
From farmstead and from fisher's cot, along the banks of Bann
They come with vengeance in their eye, 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 eye, 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