O see the fleet-foot host of men Who 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 stepped So 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 last this narrow street he trod His shining pike in hand Behind him marched, in grim array A earnest stalwart 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'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