Из альбома: Folk Songs and Minstrelsy

Oh, down the glen I went one morn
To a city there rode I There Ireland’s lines of marchin' men
In squadrons passed me by No pipe did hum, nor no battle drum
Did send it straight and true
Nor the Angelus bell o’er the Liffey swell
Rang out in the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war
For 'twas better to die 'neath a Dublin sky
Than at Suvla or Sud-el-bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurryin' through
For Britannia’s sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
The bravest fell, and the solemn bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those that died that Eastertide
In the springtime of the year
The world could gaze with deep amaze
At those fairest men but true
Who bore the fight that freedom’s light
Might shine through the foggy dew

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