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• Artiste: Alan Stivell
• Titre: The Foggy Dew
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'Twas down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I. When Ireland's line of marching men In squadrons passed me by. No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound its dread tattoo But the Angelus bell oler 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 Ineath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar. And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through ; While Brittanials sons with their long-range guns Sailed in from the foggy dew. An back through the glen I rode again And my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with variant whom I never shall see more But to and through in my dreams I go And I kneel and pray for you For slavery fled oh glorious dead When you fell in the foggy dew, Traditionnal song on Irish revolution