Letras
It was 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 bright manly forms and on eyes with hope gleaming
I'll see them again sure, through all my daydreaming
Glory-o, Glory-o, to the bold fenian men
Some died by the glenside, some died 'midst a stranger
And wise men have told us their cause was a failure
But they stood for old Ireland and 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 shall never forget her
We may have brave men but we'll never have better
Glory-o, Glory-o, to the bold fenian men