The Foggy Dew - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

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 sound its loud tattoo

But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's 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 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 long-range guns sailed in through the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese go, that small nations might be free

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'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew

Their bravest fell, and the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear

For those who died that Eastertide in the springing 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

And back through the glen I rode again, my heart with grief was sore

For I parted then with valiant men whom I shall never see n'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