THE FOGGY DEW

(Click here to listen to '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 pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound it's loud tattoo
But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey swell, rang out in the Foggy Dew

Right proudly high in Dublin town hung they out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sedd el Bahr
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Brittania's Huns with their long range guns sailed in through the Foggy Dew

The bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide, in the springing of the year
While the world gaze with deep amaze, at those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the Foggy Dew

'Twas England bade our wild gees 'Go', that small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the great north see
Or had they died by Pearse's side, or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew

(By Cannon Charles O'Neill)