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The Foggy Dew - Derek Warfield/the Young Wolfe Tones
Composed by：Derek Warfield/Traditional Music
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 sounds it's loud tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey swell
Rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high in Dublin town
They flung out a 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 great big guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
Oh the night fell black and the rifles crack
Made Perfidious Albion reel
'Neath 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
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
Out it's 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
