Damien Dempsey The Foggy Dew
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 fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's dread tatoo But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out through 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 Britannia'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 or the fringe of the great North Sea O, had they died by Pearse's side, or had fought with Cathal Brugha Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew
But the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear For those who died that watertide in the springtime of the year While the world did gaze with deep amazeat those fearless men, but few Who bore the fight that Freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see 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
