Music: Kearney
It was down by the glenside, I met an old woman
A-picking young nettles, and she neβer saw me coming
I listened a while to the song she was humming
Glory-O, Glory-O, to the bold Fenian men
It's fifty long years since I saw the moon beamin'
On strong manly forms, and eyes with hope gleaming
I see them again, in all my sad dreaming
Glory-O, Glory-O, to the bold Fenian men.
When I was a young girl, their marchin' and drilling'
Awoke in the glenside sounds awesome and thrillin'
They loved dear old Ireland, and to die they were willing
Glory-O, Glory-O, to the bold Fenian men.
Some died by the glenside, some died near a stranger
And wise men have told us their cause was a failure
They loved dear old Ireland, they never feared danger
Glory-O, Glory-O, to the bold Fenian men
I went on my way, God be praised that I met her
Be life long or short, sure I'll never forget her
We may have good men, but we'll never have better
Glory-O, Glory-O, to the bold Fenian men