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'Twas down by the glenside, I spied an old woman |
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She was plucking young nettles, she scarce saw me coming |
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I listened a while to the song she was humming |
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Glory O, Glory O to our bold Fenian men |
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'Tis sixteen long years since I saw the moon beaming |
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On strong manly forms and their eyes were hot gleaming |
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I see them on a, sure, in all my daydreaming |
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Glory O, Glory O to our bold Fenian men |
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Some died on the hillside, some died with a stranger |
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And wise men have judged that their cause was a failure |
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They fought for their freedom and they never feared danger |
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Glory O, Glory O to our bold Fenian men |
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I passed on my way, thanks to God that I met her |
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Be life long or short sure I'll never forget her |
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There may have been brave men but they'll never be better |
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Glory O, Glory O to our bold Fenian men |
