The foggy dew (Traditional): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
<poem> | |||
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 loud tattoo. | |||
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's 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 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 through the foggy dew. | |||
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go, | |||
that small nations might be free. | |||
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 fought with Cathal Brugha! | |||
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep | |||
'neath the shroud of the foggy dew. | |||
Oh the bravest fell and the Requiem bell | |||
rang mournfully and clear | |||
for those who died that Easter tide | |||
in the spring time 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. | |||
</poem> | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Romantic music]] | [[Category:Romantic music]] | ||
Revision as of 07:16, 23 June 2012
Music files
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File details |
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Help |
CPDL #26567:
- Editor: Adriano Secco (submitted 2012-06-23). Score information: A4, 6 pages, 72,5 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: The foggy dew
Composer: Anonymous (Traditional)
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Language: English
Instruments: Unknown
Published:
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
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 loud tattoo.
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's 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 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 through the foggy dew.
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go,
that small nations might be free.
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 fought with Cathal Brugha!
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep
'neath the shroud of the foggy dew.
Oh the bravest fell and the Requiem bell
rang mournfully and clear
for those who died that Easter tide
in the spring time 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.