The Foggy Dew Songtext
The Foggy Dew´Twas down the glen one Easter mornTo a city fair rode I.When Ireland´s line of marching menIn squadrons passed me by.No pipe did hum, no battle drumDid sound its dread tattooBut the Angelus bell o´er the Liffey´s swellRang out in the foggy dew.Right proudly high over Dublin townThey hung out a flag of war.´Twas better t odie ´neath an Irish skyThan at Suvla or Sud el Bar.And from the plains of Royal MeathStrong men came hurrying through;While Brittania´s sons with their long-range gunsSailed in from the foggy dew.´Twas England bade our wild geese goThat small nations might be free.Their lonely graves are by Suvla´s wavesOn the fringe of the grey North Sea.But had they died by Pearse´s sideOr fought with Gathal Bruga,Their graves we´d keep where the Fenians sleep´Neath the hills of the foggy dew.The bravest fell, and the solemn bellRang mournfully and clearFor those who died that EastertideIn the springing of the year.And the world did gaze in deep amazeAt those fearless men and trueWho bore the fight that freedom´s lightMight shine through the foggy dew.