As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I
Their 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 bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out through that foggy dew
Ride proudly high over Dublin Town
They flown out that flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Sulva or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns
Sailed in through that foggy dew
'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves
Or the shore of the Great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we will keep where the minions sleep
'Neath the shroud of that foggy dew
Oh the night fell black, and the rifles' crack
Made perfidious Albion reel
Mid the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame
Did shine o'er lines of steel
By each shining blade a prayer was said,
That to Ireland her sons be true
When the morning broke, still that war flag shown
Out its fold in that foggy dew
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those that died that Eastertide
In the spring time of the year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze
At those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that the freedom's light
Might shine through that foggy dew
Ah, back through the glen I rode again
My heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead
When you fell into that foggy dew
When you fell into that foggy dew
When you fell into that foggy dew