Athionchollú : Standing on the Hill
Foggy Dew
Foggy Dew
Text und Musik : irisch überliefert
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 nor battle drum did sound its dread tattoo.
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey´s swell rang out in 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 long range guns, sailed in from the Foggy Dew.
'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free,
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the shore of the Great North Sea.
O, had they died by Pearse's side, or had fought with Valera true,
Their names we would keep where the fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.
But the bravest fell, and the solemn 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.
As back to the glen I rode again, and my heart with greef was sore.
For I`ve parted then with valient men whom I never shall see no more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I neel and pray for you
For savery said, our glorious dead when you fell in the foggy dew.