The Foggy Dew

'Twas down the glen one Easter morn

To a city fair rode I.

When Ireland's line of marching men

In squadrons passed me by.

No pipe did hum, no battle drum

Did sound its dread 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 a flag of war.

'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky

Than at Suvla or Sudal Bar.

And from the plains of Royalmeath

Strong men came hurrying through;

While Brittania's sons with their long-range guns

Sailed in from 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.