As 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 it's loud tattoo But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey swell, rang out in the Foggy Dew
Right proudly high in Dublin town hung they out the flag of war 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sedd el Bahr 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
The bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Eastertide, in the springing of the year While the world gaze with deep amaze, at those fearless men but few Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the Foggy Dew
'Twas England bade our wild gees 'Go', that small nations might be free But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the great north see Or 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