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Lift, Mac Cahir Oge your face
Brooding o'er the old disgrace
That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place
And drove you to the fern, O!
Grey said victory was sure
Soon the fire-brand he'd secure
Until he met at Glenmalure
With Feagh Mac Hugh o' Byrne O!
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire,
Feagh will do what Feagh will dare.
Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen in your star low.
Up with halberd, out with sword,
On we go for by the Lord,
Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word
"Follow me up to Carlow."
See the swords of Glen Imaal
Flashing 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 Kildaire,
Feagh will do what Feagh will dare.
Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen in your star low.
Up with halberd, out with sword,
On we go for by the Lord,
Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word
"Follow me up to Carlow."
From Trassagart to Clonmore
There flows a stream of Saxon gore.
Great is Rory Oge More
At 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 Liza and her ladies.
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire,
Feagh will do what Feagh will dare.
Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen in your star low.
Up with halberd, out with sword,
On we go for by the Lord,
Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word
"Follow me up to Carlow."
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire,
Feagh will do what Feagh will dare.
Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen in your star low.
Up with halberd, out with sword,
On we go for by the Lord,
Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word
"Follow me up to Carlow."