I was down the glen one easter morn

To a city fair rode I

There armed lines of marching men

In squadrons passed me by

No pipe did hum

No battle drum did sound its loud tattoo

But the Angelus Bells o'er the Liffcy Swells

Rang out in the foggy dew

Proudly high in Dublin town

The hung out a flag of war

It was 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 Brittania's huns with their long range guns

Sailed in through the 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 Fenians sleep

Neath the shroud of the foggy dew

Their bravest tell 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 desp amaze

At those fearless men but few

Who bore the fight that freedom's light

Might shine through the foggy dew