playlist

The Foggy Dew - text

It was down, oh glen one Easter morn.
To a city fair rode I...
There armed lines of marching men.
In squadrons passed me by...

No fife did hum, no battle drum.
Did sound its dred tattoo...
But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey's 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 Brittania's hunts with their long-range guns.
Sailed in through the foggy dew...

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell.
Rang mournfully and clear...
For those who died that Eastertide.
In the springing of the 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...

It was Brittania bade our wild geese go.
That small nations might be free...
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves.
On the shore of the grey North Sea...

But had they died by Pearse's side.
Or fought with Cathal Brugha...
Their names we would keep where the Fenians sleep.
'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew...

As down to the glen I rode again
and my heart with grief was sore...
For I parted then with valiant men.
whom I never will see more...

And to and fro in my dreams I go
and I'd kneel and pray for you...
For slavery fled, oh my glorious dead.
When you fell in the foggy dew.

Text přidal IneM

Text opravil Sheamus_CZ

Video přidal IneM


Přihlášení

Registrovat se

Smash the Windows

The Tosserstexty

Tento web používá k poskytování služeb, personalizaci reklam a analýze návštěvnosti soubory cookie. Používáním tohoto webu s tím souhlasíte. Další informace.