| 'Twas down by the glenside, I met an old woman
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| A-plucking young nettles, she ne’er saw me coming
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| I listened a while to the song she was humming
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| Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
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| 'Tis many long years since I saw the moon beaming
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| On strong manly forms and their eyes with hope gleaming
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| I’ll see them again, through all my sad dreams
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| Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
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| Some died by the glenside, some died near a stranger
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| And wise men have told us that their cause was a failure
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| But they loved their old Ireland and they never feared danger
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| Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men
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| I passed on my way, Gods be praised that I met her
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| Be life long or short, sure I’ll never forget her
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| We may have brave men, but we’ll never have better
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| Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men |