As down the glen one Easter morn
 To a city fair rode I,
 Their armed lines of marching men
 In squadrons passed me by.
 No pipe did hum, no battle [bad word] 
 Did sound its loud tattoo
 But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells
 Rang out in the foggy dew.

 Right proudly high in Dublin town
 Hung they out a 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;
 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 Easter-tide
 In the springing of the year.
 While the world did gaze with deep amaze
 At those fearless men but few
 Who bore the fight that freedom's light
 Might shine through the foggy dew.

 And back through the glen I rode again
 And my heart with grief was sore
 For I parted then with valiant men
 Whom I never shall see more
 But to and fro
 In my dreams I go 
 And I kneel and pray for you
 For slavery fled 
 Oh, glorious dead
 When you fell in the foggy dew