Lift Mac Cahir Og your face, You're broodin' o'er the old disgrace That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place and drove you to the ferns Gray said victory was sure, And soon the firebrand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure with Fiach McHugh 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 halbert, out with sword, on we go for, by the Lord Fiach McHugh has given the word "Follow me up to Carlow"
See the swords of Glen Imaal, They're flashing o'er the English Pale See all the childer of the Gael, Beneath O'Byrne's banner Rooster of the fighting stock, Would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish Rock, Fly up and teach him manners
Chorus
From Tassagart to Clonmore, There flows a stream of Saxon gore And great is Rory Og O'More At sending loons to Hades White is sick and Gray is fled, And now for black Fitzwilliam's head We'll send it over, dripping red to Liza and her ladies