The Foggy Dew

The Foggy Dew - The Fighting Men From Crossmaglen/Trad./Bradley

I was 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 its loud tattoo

But the Angelus Bells o'er the Liffey swells

Rang out in the foggy dew

Right proudly high in Dublin town

Hung they out a flag of war

Twas better to die neath that Irish sky

Than at Sulva or Sud el Bar

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

Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go

That small nations might be free

But their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves

Or the shore 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

And 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 kneel and pray for you

For slavery fled oh glorious dead

When you fell in the foggy dew