T'was down by the Glenside
I met an old woman
A plucking young nettles
She ne'er saw me coming
I listened to a while
To the song, she was humming
Glory o glory o, to the bold Fenian man
It's fifty long years
Since I saw the moon beaming
A strong mainly force
Their eyes with hope gleaming
I see then again
Through all my sad dreaming
Glory o glory o, to the bold Fenian man
Some died by the hillside
Some died with the stranger
And wise man has told us
They cause was a failure
But they love they old Ireland
And they never feel the danger
Glory o glory o, to the bold Fenian man
I passed on my way
God be prayed that I met her
Be life long or short
I will never forget her
We may have a brave man
But we'll never have better
Glory o glory o, to the bold Fenian man
T'was down by the Glenside
I met an old woman
A plucking young nettles
She ne'er saw me coming
I listened to a while
To the song, she was humming
Glory o glory o, to the bold Fenian man
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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