'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman
She was picking young
nettles and she scarce saw me coming
I listened awhile to the song she
was humming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
'Tis
fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming
On strong manly forms and
their eyes with hope gleaming
I see them again, sure, in all my
daydreaming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
Some
died on the glenside, some died near a stranger
And wise men have told us
that their cause was a failure
They fought for old Ireland and they never
feared danger
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
I
passed on my way, God be praised that I met her
Be life long or short,
sure I'll never forget her
We may have brave men, but we'll never have
better
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
