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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
