The Foggy Dew

As down the glen one Easter morn

To a city fair rode I

There armored lines of marching men

In squadrons passed me by

No pipes did hum, no battle drum

Did sound its loud tattoo

But the Angelu's bell o'er the Liffey's swell

Rang out in the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin town

They flung 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 Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns

Sailed in through 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

On 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 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

While the world did gaze with deep amaze

At those fearless men but few

Who bore the fight that the 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 with those valiant men

That I'll never see no more

But to and fro in my dreams I go

And I'd kneel and pray for you

For slavery fled O glorious dead

When you fell in the Foggy Dew