'Twas down the glen one Easter morn

To a city fair rode I.

When Ireland's 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 oler the Liffey's swell

Rang out in the foggy dew.


Right proudly high over Dublin town

They hung out a flag of war.

'Twas better to die Ineath an Irish sky

Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.

And from the plains of Royal Meath

Strong men came hurrying through ;

While Brittanials sons with their long-range guns

Sailed in from the foggy dew.


An back through the glen I rode again

And my heart with grief was sore

For I parted then with variant whom

I never shall see more

But to and through 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,


Traditionnal song on Irish revolution