'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I
Those armored lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out of the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung they 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;
And while Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
Sailed out o'er the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese fly
That small nations might be free
Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
And 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 fenians sleep
Beneath the shroud of the foggy dew
But the bravest fell as the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springtime of the year
And the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight so that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew
Who bore the fight so that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew
Might shine through the foggy dew
Might shine through the foggy dew