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!
		
		Chorus:
			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.
		
		Chorus
		
		>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.
		
		Chorus
		
		
		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!

		Chorus