The Foggy Dew

As down the glen one Easter morn to the city fair rode I
There armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out through the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin town they hung out the flag of war
Was better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sedd el Bahr
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

Was Britannia bade our wild geese go that small nations might be free
For their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves and or the fringe of the great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we would 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 Easter tide 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 that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew

As back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with those valiant men, whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I will go, and I'll kneel and pray for you
Oh slavery fled, oh the glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew