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作词 : Milligan/Fox |
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作曲 : Milligan/Fox |
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As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I |
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There Ireland’s lines of marching men |
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In squadrons passed me by |
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No pipe did hum, no battle drum, did sound its loud tattoo |
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But the Angelus Bell o’er the Liffey’s swell rang out in the foggy dew |
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Right proudly high over Dublin town they flung out the flag of war |
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T’was better to die ‘neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar |
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And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through |
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While Britannia’s Huns, with their great big guns sailed in through the foggy dew |
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Oh the night fell black, and the rifles’ crack made perfidious Albion reel |
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In the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame did shine o’er the lines of steel |
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By each shining blade a prayer was said, that to Ireland her sons be true |
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But when morning broke, still the war flag shook out its folds in the foggy dew |
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Oh the bravest fell and the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear |
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For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of the year |
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While the world did gaze, with deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few |
| [02:42.090] |
Who bore the fight that the freedom’s light might shine through the foggy dew |
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Back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore |
| [03:06.090] |
For I parted with those gallant men who I’ll never see no more |
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But to and fro in my dreams I go and I’ll kneel and pray for you |
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For slavery fled. O’ glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew |
