With faces one from farmstead and from fissures cutAlong the banks of band.They come with vengeance in their eyes,Too late, too late are they,For young Roddy McCorley he goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb today.Up the narrow street he steps,Smiling, proud and young.About the hemp rope on his neckThe golden ring lets long.There is never a tear in his blue eyes,But glad and bright are they,As young Roddy McCorley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb today.When he last stepped up the street,His shining pike in hand,Behind him marched in grim arrayA stalwart earnest band.For Antrim town, for Antrim town,He led them to the fray.And young Roddy McCorley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb today.There is never a one of all yet deadMore bravely fell in frayThan he who marches to his fateOn the bridge of tomb today.Due to the last, due to the last,He treads the upward way.And young Roddy McCorley goes to dieOn the bridge of tomb today.