Paroles de The Marching Song of Fiach Mac Hugh

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 Glenmaiure With Fiach Mac Hugh O'Byrne 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'll go for by the Lord Fiach 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 a fighting stock Would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock Fly up and teach him manners From Saggart to Clonmore There flows a stream of Saxon gore O great is Rory Og 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