Prodigals Roddy Mccorley
Oh, see the host of fleet foot men
Who tread with faces wan
From farm stead 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!
When last this narrow street he trodded
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!
Up that narrow street he stepped
So smiling and proud and young
About the hemp rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung
But there's never a tear in his blue eyes
Both glad and bright are they
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
Oh never a one, no never a one
More bravely fell in fray
Than he who marches to his death
On the bridge of Toome 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!
Oh, see the host of fleet foot men
Who tread with faces wan
From farm stead 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!
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
