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, 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