'Twas 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, on eyes with hope gleaming I see them again, sure, in all my sad dreaming Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men. When I was a young girl, their marching and drilling Awoke in the glenside sounds awesome and thrilling They loved dear old Ireland, 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 But they fought for old Ireland and 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