Lift Mac Cahir Og your face,

from brooding o'er the old disgrace

When Black FitzWilliam stormed

your place an drove you to the

fern o!

Grey said victory was sure,

soon the firebrand he'd secure,

Until he met at Glenmalure,

with Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne

Chorus:

Curse and swear! Lord Kildare,

Fiach will do what Fiach will dare

Now FitzWilliam have a care!

Fallen is your star low!

Up with halberd out with sword!

On we go for by the lord

Fiach MacHugh has given the word:

Follow me up to Carlow!

See the swords at Glen Imael,

flash all o'er the English Pale,

See all the children of the Gael,

beneath O'Byrne's banners

Rooster of a fighting stock,

will you let an Saxon cock

Cry out upon an Irish rock,

Fly up and teach him manners!

From Tassagart to Clonmore

there flows a trail of English gore,

Well great is Rory Og O'More,

at sending the loons to Hades

White is sick and Grey is fled,

now for Black FitzWilliams head

We'll send it over dripping red,

to Liza and her ladies