oh
see the hosts of fleet foot men
who speed with faces wan
from farmstead and from fisher's 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 streets he stepped
smiling proud and young
about the hemp rope on his neck
the golden ringlets clung
there is never a tear in his blue eyes
for glad and bright are they
as young roddy mccorely 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