Foggy Dew

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As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I,
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There armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by;
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No pipe did hum, nor battle drum did sound it's loud tattoo,
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But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out through the Foggy Dew.

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Right proudly high o'er Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war,
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Twas better die neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud El Bar;
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And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through,
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While Brittania's sons, with their long range guns, sailed in through the Foggy Dew.

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O, the night fell black, and the rifles crack made "Perfidious Albion" reel,
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'Mid the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame did shine o'er the lines of steel;
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By each shinning blade a prayer was said that to Ireland her sons be true,
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And when morning broke still the war flag shook out it's folds in the Foggy Dew.

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'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go, that small nations might be free,
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But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the Great North Sea.
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Oh had they died by Pearse's side or had fought with Cathal Brugha,
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Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew

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But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear,
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For those who died the Eastertide in the springtime of the year.
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While the world did gaze with deep amaze at those fearless men but few,
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Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the Foggy Dew,

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Back through the glen I rode again, and my heart with grief was sore,
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For I parted then with valiant men who I never shall see more;
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But to and from in my dreams I go, and I'd kneel and pray for you,
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For slavery fled, O glorious dead when you fell in the Foggy Dew.

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.