The Foggy Dew

'Twas down the glen one Easter morn

To a city fair rode I

Those armored lines of marching men

In squadrons passed me by

No pipe did hum nor battle drum

Did sound it's dread tattoo

But the Angelus bell o'er the liffey swell

Rang out of the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin Town

Lay 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

And while Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns

Sailed out o'er the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese fly

That small nations might be free

Their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves

And the fringe of the great North Sea

Oh, had they died by Pearse's side

Or fought with Cathal Brugha

Their names we'd keep where fenians sleep

'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew

But the bravest fell as the requiem bell

Rang mournfully and clear

For those who died that Eastertide

In the spring time of the year

And the world did gaze with deep amaze

At those fearless men, but few

Who bore the fight so that freedom's light

Might shine through the foggy dew

Who bore the fight so that freedom's light

Might shine through the foggy dew

Might shine through the foggy dew

Might shine through the foggy dew