Three Kings
The Foggy Dew
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 fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's loud tattoo
But the Angelus bell over the Liffey swell rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high in Dublin Town hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter tide in the springing of the year
While the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, When you fell in the foggy dew
From Letras Mania