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 pipes did hum nor 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 Suva or Suvilbar

And from the plains of Royal Meath

Strong men came hurrying through

While Britannia's sons with their long-range guns

Sailed in by the foggy dew

But the bravest fell and the solemn bell

Rang mournfully and clear

For those who died that Eastertide

In the springtime of the year

And the world did gaze in deep amaze

At those stout-hearted men but few

Who bore the fight that freedom's light

Might shine through the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese go

That small nations might be free

But their lonely graves are by Suva's waves

On the fringe of the grey North Sea

Oh, had they died by Pearse's side

Or fought with Caru Bru

Their names we would keep where the Fenians sleep

'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew

Back to the glen I rode again

My heart with grief was sore

For I parted with those valiant men

I never would see no more

And to and fro in my dreams I'll go

And I'll kneel and pray for you

For slavery fled, oh, rebel dead

When you fell in the foggy dew