As down the glen one Easter morn'
To a city fair rode I
There are armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum nor battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus bells or the Liffey's swells
Rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high in Dublin town
Hung they out the flag of war
It was better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of the Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
It was Brittania bade our wild geese go
"Small nations might be free"
Now their lonely graves are by Suvla Bay
Or the shores of the great North Sea
But had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep
'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter tide
In the springing of the year
And the world did gaze in deep amaze
At the fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew
As back through the glen, I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see no more
But to and fro in my dreams I'll go
And I'll kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew
