Trad. lytics by Peadar Kearney
'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman,
A-picking young nettles and she scarce saw me coming,
I listened awhile 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 and their eyes with hope gleaming,
I see them again, sure, in all my daydreaming,
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.
Some died on the glenside, some died near a stranger,
And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure,
They fought for 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, 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
'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman,
A-picking young nettles and she scarce saw me coming,
I listened awhile 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 and their eyes with hope gleaming,
I see them again, sure, in all my daydreaming,
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.
Some died on the glenside, some died near a stranger,
And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure,
They fought for 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, 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