'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman
A'picking young nettles, she ne'er 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, in all my sad dreaming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men

Some died by the glenside, some died of a stranger
And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure
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, 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