T'was down by the Glenside, I met an old woman A plucking young nettles, she n'er saw me coming. I listened awhile to the song she was humming. Glory-o, Glory-o to the bold Feninan men.
There’s fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming, On strong manly forms, and the eyes with hope gleaming. I see them again sure trough, all my sad dreaming. Glory-o, Glory-o to our bold fenian men.
When I was a young man, their marching and drilling, Awoke in the Glenside sounds awesome and thrilling. They loved poor old Ireland and to die they were willing! Glory-o, Glory-o to the bold Fenian men..
Some died by the Glenside, some died mid the stranger And wise men have told us, their cause was a failure. But they loved their 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, I will never forget her. We may have had brave men, but we'll never have better. Glory-o, Glory-o, to the bold Fenian men