Lack Of Limits Carlow
O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue
To drown the throat of war! -
When the senses are shaken, and the soul
is driven to madness, Who can stand?
When the souls of the oppressed
Fight in the troubled air that rages,
Who can stand? When Sin claps his broad
wings over the battle, and sails rejoicing in
the flood of Death; When souls are torn to
everlasting fire, and fiends of Hell rejoice
upon the slain. O who can stand? O who
hath caused this? The Kings and Nobles of
the Land have done it! Hear it not, Heaven,
thy Ministers have done it!
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´d secure
Until he met at Glenmalure Feach Mac
Hugh O´Byrne
Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feach will do what Feach 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 Mac Hugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow
See the words 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
like a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and
teach them manners
>From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a
stream of Saxon gore
Oh, great is Rory Oge O´More, at sending
the loons to Hades
White is sick and Lane is fleet, now for black
Fitzwilliam`s head
We´ll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and
the ladies
Doesn't mean I like bloody wars where
leaders always cry for more
Where greed is armed with a sword, blood
runs on the floor
Doesn't mean I like bloody wars where
leaders always cry for more
Where greed is armed with a sword,
blood runs on the floor
