Oh, see the fleet foot hosts of men
Who speed with faces wan
From farm stead and from thresher's cot
Along the banks of Ban.
They come with vengeance in their eyes,
Too late, too late are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
Up the narrow street he stepped,
Smiling and proud and young.
About the hemp rope on his neck,
The golden ringlets clung.
There's never a tear in his blue eyes,
Both glad and bright are they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
When he last stepped up that street
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,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
There's never a one of all who die
More bravely fell in fray
Than he who marches to his fate
On the bridge of Toome today.
True to the last, true to the last,
He treads the upward way
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
Who speed with faces wan
From farm stead and from thresher's cot
Along the banks of Ban.
They come with vengeance in their eyes,
Too late, too late are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
Up the narrow street he stepped,
Smiling and proud and young.
About the hemp rope on his neck,
The golden ringlets clung.
There's never a tear in his blue eyes,
Both glad and bright are they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
When he last stepped up that street
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,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
There's never a one of all who die
More bravely fell in fray
Than he who marches to his fate
On the bridge of Toome today.
True to the last, true to the last,
He treads the upward way
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today!
envoyé par Marcia - 12/7/2008 - 16:14
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Album: "The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem"
Roddy McCorley was a rebel leader who was sentenced to death for his role in the 1798 uprising Ireland. He was executed by hanging in the town of Toome.
"Roody McCorley" is a poem written by Ethna Carbery, an Irish writer and poet. The song Young Roddy McCorley/Roddy McCorley is an adaptation of the poem made by Pat Clancy:
Ho! See the fleet-foot hosts of men
Who speed with faces wan,
From farmstead and from fisher’s cot
Upon the banks of Bann!
They come with vengeance in their eyes
Too late, too late are they
For Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.
Oh Ireland, Mother Ireland,
You love them still the best,
The fearless brave who fighting fall
Upon your hapless breast
But 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.
Up the narrow street he stepped,
Smiling and proud and young
About the hemp-rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung.
There’s never a tear in the blue, blue eyes,
Both glad and bright are they
As Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.
Ah ! when he last stepped up that street,
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 Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.
The grey coat and its sash of green
Were brave and stainless then
A banner flashed beneath the sun
Over the marching men
The coat bath many a rent this noon,
The sash is torn away,
And Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.
Oh, how his pike flashed to the sun!
Then found a foeman’s heart!
Through furious fight, and heavy odds,
He bore a true man’s part;
And many a red-coat bit the dust
Before his keen pike-play
But Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.
Because he loved the Motherland,
Because he loved the Green,
He goes to meet the martyr’s fate
With proud and joyous mien,
True to the last, true to the last,
He treads the upward way
Young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Toome today.