Roddy McCorley Eithne Carbury Oh see the fleet foot host of men who speed with faces wan. From farmsted 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 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 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 is 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 led them to the fray And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today

© 2005 Jonathan Ramsey Irish Music Productions