Are marshaird prow to prow;
The boatmen cease their scoffing,
And bend to the rowlocks now;
Like glory-guided steeds they start—
Away o'er the waves they bound;
Each rower can hear the beating heart
Of his brother boatman sound.
Nearer! nearer! on they come,
Row, McDonald, row!
For Antrim's princely castle home,