Lift mcCahir Og your face
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You're brooding over the old disgrace
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That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place and sent you to the ferns
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Grey said victory was sure
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Soon the firebrand he'd secured
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Until he met at Glenmalure with Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne
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Curse and swear Lord Kildare
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Fiach will do what fiach will dare
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Now Fitzwilliam have a care
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Fallen is your star low
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Up with halberd our with sword
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On we go for by the Lord
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Fiach MacHugh has given the word
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Follow me up to Carlow.
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See the swords of Glen Imaal
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Go flashing o'er the English pale
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See all the children on the Gael beneath O'Byrne's banner
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Rooster of the fighting stock
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Would you let a saxon cock
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Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners
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From Teach Sagard to Clonmore
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There flows a stream of Saxon gore
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And great is Rory Og O'More at sending the loons to hades
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White is sick and Grey has fled
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Now for Black Fitzwilliam's head
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We'll send it over dripping red to Liza and her ladies
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Follow Me Up To Carlow / Holt's Way
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Blood Or Whiskey |