The Foggy Dew
As down the glen one Easter morn
- As down the glen one Easter morn
- To a city fair rode I
- There Armed lines of marching men
- In squadrons passed me by
- No pipes did hum no battle drum
- Did sound its dread tattoo
- But the Angelus Bell 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 range big guns
- Sailed in through the foggy dew
- Oh the night fell black
- And the rifles' crack
- Made perfidious Albion reel
- In the leaden rain
- Seven tongues of flame
- Did shine o'er the lines of steel
- By each shining blade a prayer was said
- That to Ireland her sons be true
- When the morning broke
- Still the war flag shook out
- Its folds in the foggy dew
- 'Twas England bade our wild geese go
- That small nations might be free
- But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
- Or the fringe of the great North Sea
- Oh had they died by Pearse's side
- Or fought with Cathal Brugha
- Their name 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
- Oh 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
- Back through the glen I rode again
- My heart with grief was sore
- For I parted then with those valiant men
- Whom I never see no more
- But to and fro in my dreams I go
- And I kneel and I pray for you
- For slavery fled oh glorious dead
- When you fell in the foggy dew
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