Lift MacCahir Og your face
Brooding o’er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place,
Drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure
Soon the firebrand he’d secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure
With Feach MacHugh O’Byrne.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feach will do what Feach 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
Feach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

From Tassagart to Clonmore,
There flows a stream of Saxon gore
Oh, 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.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feach will do what Feach 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
Feach MacHugh has given the 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 [bad word] 
Crow out upon an Irish rock,
Fly up and teach him manners.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feach will do what Feach 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
Feach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.