作曲:Canon Charles O’Neill
As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Ireland’s lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum, did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o’er the Liffey’s swell rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town they flung out the flag of war
T’was 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 Britannia’s Huns, with their great big guns sailed in through the foggy dew
'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves
Or the shore of the Great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse‘s side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we will keep where the fenians sleep
'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew
Oh the bravest fell and the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of the year
While the world did gaze, with deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that the freedom’s light might shine through the foggy dew
Back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted with those gallant men who I’ll never see no more
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I’ll kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled O’ glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew
When you fell in the foggy dew
When you fell in the foggy dew