The foggy dew by Gilles Servat Lyrics
[Gilles Servat]
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 swell rang out through the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the 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
[Ronnie Drew]
But the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
[Gilles Servat]
I wear on my heart a handkerchief painted with James Connolly
A comrade imprisoned inside Long Kesh he sent this handkerchief to me
And in the trees of Brittanny all the birds are singing for you
For the strong men who fell, for you in jail, for freedom blooming in the dew
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 swell rang out through the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the 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
[Ronnie Drew]
But the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
[Gilles Servat]
I wear on my heart a handkerchief painted with James Connolly
A comrade imprisoned inside Long Kesh he sent this handkerchief to me
And in the trees of Brittanny all the birds are singing for you
For the strong men who fell, for you in jail, for freedom blooming in the dew