TIOCFAIDH ÁR LÁ. As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I Their armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound its dread tattoo But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey's swell 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
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