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As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I
There armored lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No pipes did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelu's bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They flung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
On the fringe of the great North Sea
Oh 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
Oh the bravest fell and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the spring time of the year
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that the freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew
Back through the glen I rode again
My heart with grief was sore
For I parted with those valiant men
That I'll never see no 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 in the Foggy Dew
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