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!

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!