As down the glen, one Easter morn'
To a city fair, rode I
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons they passed me by
No fife did hum
No battle drum, did sound its lowly tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey swell
It rang out in the foggy dew
And right proudly high, over Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war
It was better to die beneath an Irish sky
Than at Sulva or Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came marching through
And Brittania's Huns, with their long range guns
Sailed into the foggy dew
♪
Well the night drew black, and the rifle crack
Made 'Perfidious Albion' reel
Through the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame
They rang out over lines of steel
And unto every blade, a prayer I'd said
That, "to Ireland, oh young men be true"
Oh, and when morning broke, well, the war flag
Shook out its folds all in the foggy dew
♪
It was England bade our Wild Geese go
So, "small nations might be free"
But their lowly graves are by Suvla's waves
On the fringes of the great North Sea
But had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Well, their names we will keep where the Fenians sleep
Under the shroud of the foggy dew
♪
Well, the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and free
For those men who died on that Eastertide
At the Springtime of the year
And as the world did gaze in grief and amaze
At those gallant men, but few
Who bore the fight, so that freedom's light
Might shine in through the foggy dew
♪
Then back o'er the glen, I rode again
And my heart with grief, it was sore
For I parted then, with gallant men
That I never will see no more
And to and fro in my dream I go
I kneel and I say a prayer for you
Oh, and slavery fled, ye gallant dead
When you fell in the foggy dew
Oh, and slavery fled, ye gallant dead
When you died in the foggy dew