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

'Tis fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming

On strong manly forms, on eyes with hope gleaming

I see them again, sure, in all my sad dreaming

Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.

When I was a young girl, their marching and drilling

Awoke in the glenside sounds awesome and thrilling

They loved poor old Ireland, to die they were willing

Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.