Tommy Makem The Foggy Dew
It was down the glen one Easter morn, to a city fair
rode I
There Ireland's lines of marching men, in squadron
passed me by
No pipes did hum or no battle drum did sound its dread
tattoo
But, the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell, rang out
in the Foggy Dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town, they hung out the
flag of war
For, '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 sons with their long range guns,
sailed in by 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 grey North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side, or fought with
Valera true
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath
the hills of the Foggy Dew
The bravest fell and the sullen bell rang mournfully
and clear
For those who died that Easter tide in the springing of
the year
And the world did gaze in deep amaze at those fearless
men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine
through the Foggy Dew
