The Foggy Dew

'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
 To a city fair rode I
 Those armored lines of marching men
 In squadrons passed me by
 No pipe did hum nor battle drum
 Did sound it's dread tattoo
 But the Angelus bell o'er the liffey swell
 Rang out of the foggy dew
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 Right proudly high over Dublin Town
 Lay hung 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
 And while Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
 Sailed out o'er the foggy dew
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 'Twas England bade our wild geese fly
 That small nations might be free
 Their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves
 And 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 fenians sleep
 'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew
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 But the bravest fell as the requiem bell
 Rang mournfully and clear
 For those who died that Eastertide
 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 so that freedom's light
 Might shine through the foggy dew
 Who bore the fight so that freedom's light
 Might shine through the foggy dew
 Might shine through the foggy dew
 Might shine through the foggy dew