Follow me up to Carlow
Lift Mac Cahir Og 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,
Soon the firebrand he’s secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure
Feach Mac Hugh O Byrne

Chorus: Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feagh will do what Feagh will dare,
Now Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen is your star, low.
Up with halbert, out with sword,
On we go for by the Lord,
Feach MacHugh has given his 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 fighting cock,
Crow out upon an Irish rock,
Fly up and teach him manners.

From Tassagart to Clonmore,
Flows a stream of Saxon Gore,
Och, great is Rory Og O’More,
At sending looms to Hades.
White is sick and Lane is fled,
Now for black Fitzwilliam’s head,
We’ll send it over, dripping red,
To Liza and the ladies.