Lift McCahir Og your face,
Still brooding over the old disgrace?
That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place,
Drove you to the Fern.
Gray said victory was sure,
And soon the Firebrand he'd secure.
Until he met, at Glenmalure,
With Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne.
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'll go for by the lord,
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.
See the swords of Glen Imayle,
They're flashing over the English pale.
See all the children of the Gael,
Roosters of the fighting stock,
Would you let a Saxon cock,
Crow out upon, an Irish rock?
Fly up and teach him manners.
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'll go for by the lord,
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.
From Tassagart to Clonmore,
There flows a stream of Saxon gore,
O great is Rory Og Omore
At sending the loons to Hades.
White is sick, Grey is fled,
And now for Black Fitzwilliams head,
We'll send it over dripping red,
To Queen Liza and her ladies.
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'll go for by the lord,
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.