As down the gl

             
en one Easter 

    
morn
             
to a city fair

         
 rode I
            
There Armed li

             
nes of marchin

     
g men
             
in squadrons p

         
assed me by
             
No fife did hu

         
m nor battle d

rum
            
did sound it's

        
 dread tattoo
            
But the Angelu

             
s bell o'er th

    
e Liffey swell

 
             
rang out throu

         
gh the foggy d

ew


            
Right proudly 

             
high over Dubl

    
in Town
             
they hung out 

             
the flag of wa

    
r
            
'Twas better t

             
o die 'neath a

    
n Irish sky
             
than at Sulva 

         
or Sud El Bar
             
And from the p

         
lains of Royal

 Meath
            
strong men cam

        
e hurrying thr

ough
            
While Britanni

             
a's sons, with

    
 their long ra

nge guns
             
sailed in thro

         
ugh the foggy 

dew 


            
'Twas Britanni

             
a bade our Wil

    
d Geese go
             
that small nat

             
ions might be 

    
free
            
But their lone

             
ly graves are 

    
by Sulva's wav

es
             
or the shore o

         
f the Great No

rth Sea
             
Oh, had they d

         
ied by Pearse'

s side
            
or fought with

        
 Cathal Brugha
            
Their names we

             
 will keep whe

    
re the fenians

 sleep
             
'neath the shr

         
oud of the fog

gy dew 


            
But the braves

             
t fell, and th

    
e requiem bell
             
rang mournfull

                 
y and clear
            
For those who 

             
died that East

    
ertide
             
in the springi

         
ng of the year
             
And the world 

         
did gaze, in d

eep amaze, 
            
at those fearl

        
ess men, but f

ew
            
Who bore the f

             
ight that free

    
dom's light
             
might shine th

         
rough the fogg

y dew 

            
Oh, back throu

             
gh the glen I 

    
rode again 
             
And my heart w

             
ith grief was 

    
sore
            
For I parted t

             
hen with valia

    
nt men
             
Whom I never s

         
hall see more
             
But to and fro

         
 in my dreams 

I go
            
And I'd kneel 

        
and pray for y

ou, 
            
For slavery fl

             
ed, O glorious

    
 dead, 
             
When you fell 

         
in the foggy d

ew.