Lift Mac Cahir Og your face, brooding o'er the old dicgrace,
e h e D e
That black Fitzwilliam stormed your place, and drove you to the Fern.
h e G
Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure,
e h e D e
until he met at Glenmalure, Feach Mac Hugh O'Byrne.
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Feagh will do what Feagh will dare,
h D e
Now Fitzwilliam, have a care, fallen is you star - low,
Up with halbert, out with sword, on we go for by the Lord,
h A h D e
Feach Mac Hugh has given his word, follow me up to Carlow.
See the swords of Glen Imayle,
flashing o'er the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael, beneath O'Byrne's banners,
Rooster of the fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock,
Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners.
From Tassagart to Clonmore, flows
a stream of Saxon gore,
Och, great is Rory Oge O'More, at sending loons to Hades,
White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black Fitzwilliam's head,
We'll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and her ladies.