Текст песни The Foggy Dew - The Dubliners
It
was
down
the
glen
one
Easter
morn
to
a
city
fair
rode
I.
Their
armoured
lines
of
marching
men
in
squadrons
passed
me
by.
No
fife
did
hum
nor
battle
drum
did
sound
it's
dread
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
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
by
the
foggy
dew.
'Twas
England
bade
our
Wild
Geese
go
That
small
nations
might
be
free.
But
their
lonely
graves
are
by
Silva's
waves
Or
the
fringe
of
the
Great
North
Sea.
Oh,
had
they
died
by
Pearse's
side
or
fought
with
Cathal
Brugh.
Their
names
we
will
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
stout
hearted
men,
but
few.
Who
bore
the
fight
that
freedom's
light
Might
shine
through
the
foggy
dew.
Back
to
the
glen
I
rode
again
and
my
heart
with
grief
was
sore.
For
I
parted
with
those
valiant
men
whom
I
never
would
see
no
more.
And
to
and
fro
in
my
dreams
I
will
go
And
I'd
kneel
and
I'd
pray
for
you,
For
slavery
fled,
O
glorious
dead,
When
you
fell
in
the
foggy
dew.
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