Young Dubliners, the
The Foggy Dew
Twas down the glen one Easter mornto a city fair rode I Those armored lines of marching menin squadrons passed me byNo fife did hum no battle drumdid sound it's dread tattooBut the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey swell rang out o'er the foggy dewRight proudly high over Dublin Townthey hung out the flag of war'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish skythan at Sulva or Sud El BarAnd from the plains of Royal Meathstrong men came hurrying throughWhile Britannia's Huns, with their long range gunssailed out o'er through the foggy dew 'Twas England bade our Wild Geese flythat small nations might be freeBut their lonely graves are by Sulva's wavesor the fringe of the Great North SeaOh, had they died by Pearse's sideor fought with Cathal BrughaTheir names we will keep where the fenians sleep'neath the shroud of the foggy dew Letras de cancionesBut the bravest fell, as the requiem bellrang mournfully and clearFor those who died that Eastertidein the spring time of the yearAnd the world did gaze, with deep amaze, at those fearless men, but fewWho bore the fight so that freedom's lightmight shine through the foggy dew
From Letras Mania