[00:04.13]As down the glen one Easter morn
[00:07.77]To a city fair rode I
[00:11.61]There Ireland's lines of marching men
[00:15.54]In squadrons passed me by
[00:19.35]No fife did hum nor battle drum
[00:23.35]Did sound it's loud tattoo
[00:27.10]But the Angelus' bell o'er the Liffey swells
[00:31.19]Rang out through the foggy dew
[00:35.08]Right proudly high over Dublin Town
[00:38.67]They hung out the flag of war
[00:42.69]'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
[00:46.64]Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar
[00:50.43]And from the plains of Royal Meath
[00:54.33]Strong men came hurrying through
[00:58.40]While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns
[01:01.99]Sailed in through the foggy dew
[01:36.92]'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go
[01:40.74]That small nations might be free
[01:44.64]But their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves
[01:48.50]Or the shore of the Great North Sea
[01:52.33]Oh, had they died by Pearse‘s side
[01:56.14]Or fought with Cathal Brugha
[02:00.03]Their names we will keep where the fenians sleep
[02:04.04]'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew
[02:38.91]But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
[02:42.70]Rang mournfully and clear
[02:46.53]For those who died that Easter-tide
[02:50.37]In the springing of the year
[02:54.30]And the world did gaze with deep amaze,
[02:58.26]At those fearless men but few
[03:02.15]Who bore the fight that freedom's light
[03:05.93]Might shine through the foggy dew

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 fife did hum nor battle drum
Did sound it's loud tattoo
But the Angelus' bell o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out through the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin Town
They hung out the flag of war
'Twas 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 long range 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
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter-tide
In the springing of the year
And 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