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[Am] Lift MacCahir[Em] Og your face[Am] brooding o'er the[Em] old disgrace
That[Am] black FitzWilliam[Em] stormed
your place, [C]drove you to the[Am] Fern
[Am]Grey said victor[Em]y was sure[Am] soon the firebrand[Em he'd secure;
Un[Am]til
he met at[Em] Glenmalure with[C] Feach MacHugh O'[Am]Byrne.
Ch.:[Em] Curse and swear Lord Kildare
[G]Feagh will
do what Feach will dare
[EmNow FitzWilliam, have a care
[G]Fallen is your[Am] star, low
[Em]Up with halbert out with
sword
On[G] we'll go for by the lord
[Em]Feach MacHugh has given the word,
[G]Follow me up to[Am] 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.
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