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Verse 1: Oh See the host of fleet foot men who sped with faces wan.
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From farmstedt and from fishers cot along the banks of Bann.
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They come with vengence in their eyes, too late, too late are they,
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For young Roddy McCorly goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Verse 2: When the last stepped up the stret, 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 McCorly goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Verse 3: Up the narrows streets he steps, smiling proud and young.
About the hemp rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung.