Oh, down the glen I went one morn,
To a city there rode I.
There Ireland's lines of marchin' men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, nor no battle drum
Did send it straight and true.
Nor the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war,
For 'twas better to die 'neath a Dublin sky
Than at Suvla or Sud-el-bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurryin' through,
For Britannia's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.
The bravest fell, and the solemn bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those that died that Eastertide
In the springtime of the year.
The world could gaze with deep amaze
At those fairest men but true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.