I just mailed a copy of this to my Irish friends in South Boston.
Thank you very much.
"Whack all imperialists" <seamusot@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote in message
news:7f392cbc-22d3-4775-bd35-1c497d5d7599@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> His great-coat and his sash of green were clean and stainless then
> A banner flashed beneath the sun, unto the marching men
> His coat has many a rent this noon, his sash is torn away
> And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
>
> Oh see the host of fleet foot men who sped with faces wan
> From farmstead and from fisher's cot along the banks of Bann
> 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
>
> When last he stepped up that street , his ****ning pike in hand
> Behind him marched a grim array, a stalwart and earnest band
> For Antrim town! For Antrim Town! He led them to the fray
> And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
>
> Up the narrow streets he steps, smiling proud and young
> About the hemp rope on his neck the golden ringlets clung
> There was never a tear in his blue eyes, both sad and bright are they
> For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today
>
> Oh Ireland, mother Ireland, you love them still the best
> Those fearless men who fighting fall upon your hapless breast
> There was never a one of all your dead more bravely fell in fray
> Then he who marches to his fate on the bridge of Toome today
>
> Because he loved his Motherland, because he loved the green
> He goes to meet a martyr's fate with proud and joyous gleam
> 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
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