T'was down by the Genside, 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 our bold Feninan Men
When I was a young lad, their marching and drilling Awoke in the glenside sounds awesome and thrilling They loved dear old Ireland and to die they were willing Glory-o, Glory-o to our bold Fenian men
Tis fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming On brave manly forms, on eyes with hope gleaming I see them again sure thru all my sad dreaming Glory-o, Glory-o to our bold fenian men
Some died by the glenside, some died mid the stranger And wise men have told us, our cause was a failure But they loved poor old Ireland and never feared danger Glory-o, Glory-o to our bold Fenian men
I passed on my way, God be praised that I met her, Be my life long or short, I will never forget her We may have had good men, But we'll never have better Glory-o, Glory-o, to our bold Fenian men