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 its loud tattoo
But the Angelus Bells / o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war
'Twas better to die / 'neath that 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.
Their bravest fell / and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died / that Eastertide
in the springtime 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 no more
But to and fro / in my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, / O glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew.
Charles O'Neill