twas Down The Glen One Easter Morn to A City Fair Rode I. when Irelands Line Of Marching Men in Squadrons Passed Me By. no Pipe Did Hum, No Battle Drum did Sound Its Dread Tattoo but The Angelus Bell Oer The Liffeys Swell rang Out In The Foggy Dew.
right Proudly High Over Dublin Town they Hung Out A Flag Of War. twas Better To Die neath An Irish Sky than At Suvla Or Sudal Bar. and From The Plains Of Royalmeath strong Men Came Hurrying Through; while Brittanias Sons With Their Long-Range Guns sailed In From 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.