The Foggy Dew
Traditional IrishVersion1
90
Chords in this song
Strum
D-DU-UDU
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 it's loud tattoo,
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out through the Foggy Dew.
Right proudly high o'er Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war,
Twas better 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 Huns, with their long range guns, sailed in through the Foggy Dew.
O, the night fell black, and the rifles crack made "Perfidious Albion" reel,
'Mid the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame did shine o'er the lines of steel;
By each shinning blade a prayer was said that to Ireland her sons be true,
And when morning broke still the war flag shook out it's folds in the Foggy Dew.
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free,
But 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 had fought with Cathal Brugha,
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear,
For those who died the 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 freedom's light might shine through the Foggy Dew,
Back through the glen I rode again, and my heart with grief was sore,
For I parted then with valient men who I never shall see more;
But to and from in my dreams I go, and I'd kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead when you fell in the Foggy Dew.
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Readable chord sheet for The Foggy Dew by Traditional Irish
As[Am] down the glen one E[G]aster morn to a [C]city [G]fair rod[Am]e I, Th[Am]ere armed lines of m[G]arching men in [C]squadrons [G]passed me[Am] by; N[C]o pipe did hum, nor [G]battle [Am]drum did sound it's lo[Em]ud tatto[Am]o, But the [Am]Angelus bell o'er the [G]Liffey's swell rang [C]out through the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew. Right [Am]proudly high o'er [G]Dublin Town they [C]hung out the [G]flag of [Am]war, Twas [Am]better die neath an [G]Irish sky than at [C]Suvla or [G]Sud El [Am]Bar; And [C]from the plains of [G]Royal [Am]Meath strong men came [Em]hurrying [Am]through, While [Am]Brittania's Huns, with their [G]long range guns, sailed [C]in through the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew. O, the [Am]night fell black, and the [G]rifles crack made "[C]Perfidious [G]Albion" [Am]reel, 'Mid the [Am]leaden rain, seven [G]tongues of flame did [C]shine o'er the [G]lines of [Am]steel; By each [C]shinning blade a [G]prayer was said that to [Am]Ireland her [Em]sons be [Am]true, And when [Am]morning broke still the [G]war flag shook out it's [C]folds in the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew. 'Twas [Am]England bade our [G]Wild Geese go that [C]small nations [G]might be [Am]free, But their [Am]lonely graves are by [G]Suvla's waves or the [C]fringe of the [G]Great North [Am]Sea. Oh [C]had they died by [G]Pearse's [Am]side or had fought with [Em]Cathal Bru[Am]gha, Their [Am]names we'd keep where the [G]Fenians sleep, 'neath the [C]shroud of the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew But the [Am]bravest fell, and the [G]requiem bell rang m[C]ournfully [G]and [Am]clear, For [Am]those who died the [G]Eastertide in the [C]springtime of [G]the [Am]year. While the [C]world did gaze with [G]deep [Am]amaze at those fearless [Em]men but [Am]few, Who [Am]bore the fight that [G]freedom's light might [C]shine through the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew, Back [Am]through the glen I [G]rode again, and my [C]heart with [G]grief was [Am]sore, For I [Am]parted then with [G]valient men who I [C]never [G]shall see [Am]more; But [C]to and from in my [G]dreams I [Am]go, and I'd kneel and [Em]pray for [Am]you, For [Am]slavery fled, O [G]glorious dead when you [C]fell in the [F]Foggy [Am]Dew.