The Foggy Dew Songtext
von Derek Warfield and the Young Wolfe Tones

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 loud tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey′s 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 Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath, strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia′s Huns with their greatbig guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew

Oh, the night fell black and the rifles′ crack made perfidious Albion reel
In the leaden rain
Seven tongues of flame did shine o'er the lines 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 shook out its folds in 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
Or the fringe of the great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse′s side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we will 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 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 never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go, and I kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew