from brooding o'er the old disgrace
  When Black FitzWilliam stormed
  your place an drove you to the
  fern o!
  Grey said victory was sure,
  soon the firebrand he'd secure,
  Until he met at Glenmalure,
  with Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne
  Chorus:
  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 go for by the lord
  Fiach MacHugh has given the word:
  Follow me up to Carlow!
  See the swords at Glen Imael,
  flash all o'er the English Pale,
  See all the children of the Gael,
  beneath O'Byrne's banners
  Rooster of a fighting stock,
  will you let an Saxon cock
  Cry out upon an Irish rock,
  Fly up and teach him manners!
  From Tassagart to Clonmore
  there flows a trail of English gore,
  Well great is Rory Og O'More,
  at sending the loons to Hades
  White is sick and Grey is fled,
  now for Black FitzWilliams head
  We'll send it over dripping red,
  to Liza and her ladies