As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode InThere Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me bynNo fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's loud tattoonBut the Angelus bell over the Liffey swell rang out in the foggy dewnnRight proudly high in Dublin Town hung out the flag of warn'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El BarnAnd from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying throughnWhile Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dewnnBut the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clearnFor those who died that Easter tide in the springing of the yearnWhile the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but fewnWho bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dewnnAh, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sorenFor I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see morenBut to and fro in my dreams I go and I'd kneel and pray for younFor slavery fled, O glorious dead, When you fell in the foggy dew