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The Foggy Dew - Brier
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
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