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Follow Me Up to Carlow is an Irish folk song celebrating the defeat of 3,000 English soldiers by Fiach (Feach) McHugh O’Byrne at the Battle of Glenmalure, during the Second Desmond Rebellion in 1580. It is notable as one of the most graphically violent of all Irish folk songs. It has been performed by numerous Irish folk bands, notably Planxty, on their debut album. The air is reputed to have been played as a marching tune by the pipers of Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne in 1580. - Wikipedia
Verse tempo=92, chorus=98, end on last line of chorus
Capo 3
Capo 3
Follow Me Up to Carlow
by Patrick Joseph McCall
Lift MacCahir Óg 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 Glenmalure with Fiach Mac- Hugh 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’ll go for by the lord
Feach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow! )
See the swords of Glen Imall, 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.
Chorus
From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore
Och, great is Rory Óg 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.
Chorus
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 Glenmalure with Fiach Mac- Hugh 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’ll go for by the lord
Feach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow! )
See the swords of Glen Imall, 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.
Chorus
From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore
Och, great is Rory Óg 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.
Chorus