The Foggy Dew

Traditional Irish ballad, "The Foggy Dew," performed by Canadian folk singer Jesse Ferguson on guitar. Chords and lyrics below. My tutorial on how to play this song is here:    • The Foggy Dew   Support this channel on Patreon:   / jessefergusonmusic   Jesse on Apple Music:   / jesse-ferguson   Jesse on YouTube Music:    / jesse ferguson - topic   Jesse on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5heCd... Jesse on Amazon Music: https://www.amazon.com/Shanties-Whali... Jesse's Website: http://www.jessefergusonmusic.com Jesse's Facebook:   / bardofcornwall   The Foggy Dew (Traditional, arrang. J. Ferguson, Dec. 2013) Capo @ 1 V1. [slowly, letting chords ring] Am G Em C G Am ‘Twas down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I, Am G Em C G Am when Ireland’s lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by. C G Em C G Am No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound its dread tattoo, Am G Em C* G Am but the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out in the foggy dew. *begin quick strum here Interlude: Am G Em C G Am V2. 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. V3. 'Twas England that 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. But had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha, their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the hills of the foggy dew. V4. Well, the bravest fell as the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear for those who died that Eastertide in the springtime of the year. And the world did gaze, with deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few, who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew. V5. And back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore, for I’d parted then with valiant men whom I never will see no more. But to and fro in my dreams I go, and I kneel and pray for you, for slavery fled, O ye glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew.