See the fleet foot host of men, that speed with faces wan From farmstead and from fishers cot, along the banks of Bann 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 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 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