As down the glen one Easter morn
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To a city fair rode I,
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There armed lines of marching men
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In squadrons passed me by.
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No pipe did hum, no battle drum
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Did sound its loud tattoo
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But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells
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Rang out in the foggy dew.
|
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Right proudly high in Dublin town
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Hung they out a flag of war.
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'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
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Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
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And from the plains of Royal Meath
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Strong men came hurrying through;
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While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
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Sailed in through the foggy dew.
|
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The bravest fell, and the requiem bell
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Rang mournfully and clear
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For those who died that Easter-tide
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In the springing of the year.
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While the world did gaze with deep amaze
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At those fearless men but few
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Who bore the fight that freedom's light
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Might shine through the foggy dew.
|
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And back through the glen I rode again
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And my heart with grief was sore
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For I parted then with valiant men
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Whom I never shall see more
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But to and fro
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In my dreams I go
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And I kneel and pray for you
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For slavery fled
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Oh, glorious dead
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When you fell in the foggy dew
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The Foggy Dew
|
| Sinead O'Connor |
