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The Pitmen
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Roddy Maccorley
Oh, see the fleet foot host of men
That speed with faces wan
From farm stead and from fisher's cot
Along the banks of ban
Oh, they come with vengance in their eyes
Too late, too late are they
For young Roddy MacCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
Up the narrow street he steps
Smilin' proud and young
About the hemp rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung
There was never a tear in his blue eye
Both sad an bright are they
And young Roddy MacCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
When he last stepped up that street
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Whith his shining pike in hand
Behind him marched a grim array
A stalwart earnest band
For Antrim town, for Antrim town
He let them to the fray
And young Roddy MacCorley goes to die on the bridge of toome today
There was never a one of all your dead
More bravely fell in fray
Than he; who marches to his fate
On the bridge of Toome today
Oh, true to the last, true to the last
He treats thge upward way
And young Roddy MacCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
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