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 [bad word] 
 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!

 (x2)

 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!