Irish Rebel Song The Foggy Dew

Текст песни "Irish Rebel Song — The Foggy Dew"

As down the glen one Eastern morn,
To a city fair rode I.
There Ireland's lines of marching men,
On squadrons passed me by.

No pipe, did hum no battle drum,
Did sound it's loud tattoo.
But the Angelus Bell,
O'er the Liffey's swell,

Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin Town,
They flung out the flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky,
Than at Sulva 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 foggy dew.

Oh the night fell black,
And the rifles' crack,
Made perfidious Albion reel.

In the leaden rain,
Seven tongules 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.

But then morning broke,
Still the war flag shook.

Out it's folds in the foggy dew.

Oh the breavest fell,
And the Requiem bell,
Rang mournfully and clear.

For those who died that Eastertide,
In the springtime of the year.
While the world did gaze,
With deep amaze.
At those fearless men, but few,

Who bore the fight,
That the freedom's light.

Might shine throungh the foggy dew.

Back through the glen I rode again,
My heart with grief was sore.
For I parted with those gallant men,
Who I'll never see no 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.