Traditional / Ethna Carberry

Oh see the fleet foot host of men, who speed with faces wan,
From farmstead and from fisher's 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 steps, 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, fearless and brave are they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.

When he last that street, shining pike in hand,
Behind him marched in grim array, a stawart and earnest band.
For Antrim town! For Antrim town, he led them to the fray,
But 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 of Toome today;
True to the last! True to the last, now 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.

Note: Lyrics by Ethna Carberry, music traditional.