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 
Feagh will do what Feach will dare 
Now FitzWilliam, have a care 
Fallen is your star, low 
Up with halbert 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 cock 
Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners. 

From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore 
Och, great is Rory Oge O'More, sending the loons to Hades. 
White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head 
We'll send it over, dripping red, to Queen Liza and the ladies. 

Contact:- Sean McGuinness Phone (353 1) 4501244 Fax (353 1) 4501926 Email Click Here
USA contact John Ryan Orlando Phone 4073661605 Email Click Here

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