O sida, a fridfot hos af mænO speed with faces wonFrom farmstead and from fishers cutAlong the banks of bandThey come with vengeance in their eyesToo late, too late are theyFor young Roddy McCauley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb todayUp the narrow street he steppedSmiling, proud and youngAbout the hemp rope on his neckThe golden ring lets longThere is never a tear in his blue eyesBut glad and bright are theyAs young Roddy McCauley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb todayWhen he last stepped up the streetHis shining pike in handBehind him marched in grim arrayA stalwart earnest bandFor Antrim town, for Antrim townHe led them to the frayAnd young Roddy McCauley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb todayThere is never a one of all yet deadMore bravely fell in frayThan he who marches to his fateOn the bridge of tomb todayTo toll at last, to toll at lastHe treads the upward wayAnd young Roddy McCauley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb today