'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

It's fifty long years since I saw the moon beamin'
On strong, manly forms, their eyes with hope gleamin'
I see them again through all my sad dreaming
Glory-o, glory-o, to the bold fenian men

Some died by the hillside, some died with a stranger
And wise men have told us, their cause was a failure
But they loved their old Ireland and they 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 brave men, but we'll never have better
Glory-o, glory-o, to the bold fenian men

'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