The Foggy Dew

[thenumbersmason]

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
it's loud tattoo.
But the Angelus bell
o'er the Liffey swell rang out
in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They flung out the flag of war'
T was 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 Huns
With their big great guns
sailed into the foggy dew.
Oh the night went black,
and the rifles' crack
made perfidious Albion reel'
Mid the leaden rain,
seven tongues of flame
did shine o'er the line of steel
By each shining blade,
a prayer was said
that to Ireland her sons be true
When the morning broke
still the war flag shookout
it's fold in the foggy dew.
T' was England's bade our wild geese go
that "small nations might be free"
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the great North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side
or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names 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 Eastertide in the spring time of the year
While the world did gaze, with deep amaze
at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight
that the freedom's light
might shine through the foggy dew.
Back through the glen I rode again
my heart with grief was sore
For I parted with those gallant men
Whom I'll never see no more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I kneel and I pray for you
For slavery fled!
O glorious dead!
When you fell in the foggy dew!

 

[News]

The Foggy Dew