Lift MacCahir Óg your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place and drove you to the Fern Grey 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 his word, Follow me up to Carlow!
See the swords of Glen Imall, the flashin' o'er the English Pale See all the children of the Gael, beneath O'Byrne's banners Rooster of a 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 his word, Follow me up to Carlow!
From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore And great is Rory Óg O'More, and sending the loons to Hades White is sick and Grey is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's 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 his word, Follow me up to Carlow!