d(a) C(G) a(e)
As down the glen one Easter morn
d(a)C(G) d(a)
To a city fair rode I.
d(a) C(G) a(e)
There armed lines of marching men
d(a) C(G) d(a)
In squadrons passed me by.
F(C) C(G) F(C)
No fife did hum nor battle drum
d(a) B(F) d(a)C(G)
Did sound it4s dread (loud) tattoo,
d(a)a(e) d(a) C(G) a(e)
But the Angelus bell o4er the Liffey swell
d(a) C(G) d(a)
Rang out through the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war.
4Twas better to die 4neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud El Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying trough,
While Britannia4s huns with their long range guns
Sailed in from the foggy dew.
It was England bade our Wild Geese go,
That small nation might be free.
But their lonely graves are by Suvla4s waves
Or the shore of the great North Sea.
Oh had they died by Pearse4s side
Or had fought with Cathal Brugha.
Their names we would keep where the Fenians sleep,
4Neath the shroud of the foggy dew.
But the bravest fell and the solemn bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springtime of the year.
And the world did gaze in deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom4s light
Might shine through the foggy dew.
