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