It was down by the Glenside I met an old woman
A-plucking young nettles she ne'er saw me coming
I listened a while 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, gazed on eyes with hope gleaming
Sure I see them again through all my day-dreaming
Glory O, glory O, to the bold Fenian men
Some died on the hillside, some died midst the stranger
And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure
But they loved dear 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
For be life long or short, I will never forget her
For we may have brave men, but we'll never have better
Glory O, glory O, to the bold Fenian men
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