Текст песни The Foggy Dew - Patsy Watchorn
                                                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 
                                                fife 
                                                did 
                                                hum 
                                                nor 
                                                battle 
                                                drum 
                                                did 
                                                sound 
                                                it's 
                                                dread 
                                                tatoo
 
                                    
                                
                                                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 
                                                Sulva 
                                                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 
                                                Britannia 
                                                bade 
                                                our 
                                                Wild 
                                                Geese 
                                                go 
                                                that 
                                                small 
                                                nations 
                                                might 
                                                be 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                their 
                                                lonely 
                                                graves 
                                                are 
                                                by 
                                                Sulva's 
                                                waves 
                                                or 
                                                the 
                                                shore 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                Great 
                                                North 
                                                Sea
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh, 
                                                had 
                                                they 
                                                died 
                                                by 
                                                Pearse's 
                                                side 
                                                or 
                                                fought 
                                                with 
                                                Cathal 
                                                Brugha
 
                                    
                                
                                                Their 
                                                names 
                                                we 
                                                will 
                                                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 
                                                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
 
                                    
                                
                                                Ah, 
                                                back 
                                                through 
                                                the 
                                                glen 
                                                    I 
                                                rode 
                                                again 
                                                and 
                                                my 
                                                heart 
                                                with 
                                                grief 
                                                was 
                                                sore
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                    I 
                                                parted 
                                                then 
                                                with 
                                                valiant 
                                                men 
                                                whom 
                                                    I 
                                                never 
                                                shall 
                                                see 
                                                more
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                to 
                                                and 
                                                fro 
                                                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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