The Bold Fenian Men (Down By The Glenside)

Peadar Kearney

'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman,
A'plucking young nettles, nor thought I was 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
And strong manly forms, their eyes with hope gleaming
I see them again sure, through all my days dreaming,
"Glory O, glory O, to the Bold Fenian men!"

When I was a colleen their marching and drilling
Awoke by the glenside sounds awesome and thrilling
But they loved dear old Ireland and to die they were willing
"Glory O, glory O, to the Bold Fenian men!"

Some died by the glenside, some died amid strangers,
And wise man have told us their cause was a failure;
But they stood by dear 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 great men, but we'll never have better.
"Glory O, glory O, to the Bold Fenian men!"