In the town of Tomb Ridge,
in 1798,
a young man was hanged
because he was a leader of the
rebellion in that part of the country.
His name was Roddy McCullough.
They come with vengeance
in their eyes,
Too late, too late, are they,
For young Roddy Macaulay goes to die
On the bridge of Toon today.
On the narrow street he stepped,
Smiling proud an d young,
About the hemp rope on his neck,
The golden ring that's clung,
There is never a teary in his blue eyes,
But glad and bright are they,
As young Roddy McCormie goes to die
On the bridge of June today.
When he last stared up that street,
his shining Viking hand,
Behind him marched in grim array,
a small borderless band.
For Antrim town, for Antrim town,
he led them to the fray,
And young Roddy McCormley goes to die
On the bridge of tomb today
There is never a wonder of all your dead
While bravely felled in fray
And he who marches to his fate
On the bridge of tomb today
True to the last, true to the last,
He pledged the upward way,
And young Roddy McMorley was to die
On the bridge of Hoontoway.
That was Roddy McCauley.