When he stepped up the narrow street

Smiling proud and young

Around the hemp, around his neck

The golden ringlets clung

There was never a tear in his blue eyes

Both sad and bright were they

And young Roddy McCorley goes to die

On the bridge of Tuam today

When he last stepped up that street

Shining steel in hand

Behind him marched in grim array

A stalwart, earnest band

For Antrim town, for Antrim town

He lept into the fray

Now young Roddy McCorley goes to die

On the bridge of Tuam today

See the host of fleet foot men

Dismayed with faces wan