THE FOGGY DEW
to listen to the song in
- a rather classical inerpretation of the song in a pretty bad quality. Or ...
to listen to the (whole!) song played by my favourite German Band called "An Cat Dubh". A very powerful and more contemporary version of the song (pretty good sound quality). Or click
for a high-quality version (1.3 MB)
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 pipes did hum, 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,
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or at Sudelbar;
And from the plains of royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's sons with their great guns
Sailed in by the Foggy Dew.
The night fell black but the rifles crack
Made perfidious Albion reel
'Mid leaden rain seven tongues of flame
Did burn o'er the lines of steel.
By each shining blade a prayer was said
That to I reland her sons might be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
Its folds in the Foggy Dew.
But 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 with deep amaze
On those fearless men but few,
Who bore the fight that freedom's light,
Might shine thro' 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
And the fringe of the grey North sea.
Oh had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Valera too
Their place we'd keep where the Fenians sleep.
'Neath the hills of the Foggy Dew.
Back to the glen I rode again,
And my heart with grief was sore,
For I parted them with valiant men
I never would see more;
But to and fro in my dreams I go,
And I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O! rebel dead
When you fell in the Foggy Dew.
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