Annotation:Foggy Dew (1) (The)
X:1 T:Foggy Dew [1] M:2/4 L:1/8 R:Air Q:"Moderato" B:O'Neill - Music of Ireland (1903, No. 156, p. 33) Z:AK/Fiddle's Companion K:Emin gf|ef ed|B2 (GB) |(AB)(AF)|D2 (EF)|G2 (AG) |E2E2|E4-|D2!fermata!|| B2|E2E2|GA Bc|d2 (BA) |G2A2|B2e2|d2f2|e4-|e2!D.C.!||
FOGGY DEW [1], THE (Drucd An Ceo). Irish, March or Air (4/4 or 2/4 time). E Minor. Standard tuning (fiddle). ABB. (The often unreliable) Grattan Flood (1915) states the air is "certainly" as old as the year 1595, and was used by Denny Lane for his ballad "Irish Maiden's Lament (The)." See note for "Annotation:Enniskillen Dragoon (1) (The)" for brief note on the structure of this melody and partial list of others in this class.
The words below are credited to Father P. O'Neill, "as a tribute to the martyrs of 1916."
´Twas down the glen one Eastern morn, to a city fair rode I
When Ireland´s lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by.
No pipes did hum, no battle drum did sound its loud 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 a 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 Brittanias´s huns, with their long range guns, sailed in from the foggy dew.
O, the night fell black and the rifles crack made "Perfidious Abion" reel
´Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame did shine o´er the lines of steel
By each shining blade a prayer was said that to Ireland her sons be true,
and when morning broke still the war flag shook out its fold 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, on the fringe of the Grey North sea
But had they died by Pearse´s side, or had fought with Cathal Brugha,
Their names we would 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 springtime of the year.
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but true
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 se 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.
See also the ballad "Moorlough Shore (The)," set to nearly the identical tune.
