Arranged by Ben Deschamps - Roddy McCorley lyrics

See the fleet-foot host of men who march, with faces drawn From farmstead and from fisher's cot along the banks of Ban They come with vengeance in their eyes, but too late are they For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today When last this narrow street he trod with shining pike in hand Behind him marched, in grim array, our stalwart fighting band “To Antrim town!”… To Antrim town he led us to the fray But now he marches to his fate in Toomebridge town today His grey coat and its sash of green were bright and stainless then Our banner flashed beneath the sun, o'er all his fighting men But that coat has many a rent this noon, and its sash is torn away And he who wore it goes to die in Toomebridge town today Oh Ireland, Mother Ireland, you love them still the best: Those fearless brave who, fighting, fall upon your hapless breast True to the last, true to the last, he treads the upward way Young Roddy McCorley, who goes to die on the bridge of Toome today Young Roddy McCorley, who goes to die on the bridge of Toome today