English folk song. Not to be confused with Foggy Dew Irish ballad. The Wayfaring Stranger. New York: Whittlesey House, pp. BBC Radio 2. Benjamin Britten , Perf. Thanks a million Andrew! Lyrics Lyrics transcribed by Andrew Dalby from a year old recording The folk songs of England O I am a bachelor an I live alone An I work in the weaver's trade; An the only, only thing that I ever done wrong Was courtin a fair young maid.
I courted her one summertime, An all the winter too, An the only, only thing that I never should ha done Was to save her from the foggy, foggy dew. I got that tired a livin alone I says to her one day: 'I've a nice little crib in my old shack Where you might safely lay. You'll be all right in the summertime An in the winter too: You'll lay right warm an take no harm Away from the foggy, foggy dew.
She puts her head down on my bed An she starts in to weep; She yelled and cried, she well near died, She say: 'What shall I do?
It seems likely that this was intentionally used by supporters of the Rising to encourage people to realize that freedom from British oppression was at hand, and that with their sacrifice, they both freed themselves, and avenged the fallen. In stark contrast to the other groups, the Dubliners chose to record this song without the final verse. Their true intent in doing so is unknown,but it can be assumed that they left it out to avoid showing support for the inflammatory rhetoric it encouraged.
This choice has been heavily speculated on, and it is likely that it was made with considerations to the Dubliners commercial interests. The song shows reverence for soldier and civilian alike who died in service of Ireland.
However, the political nature of this song cannot be forgotten, and its appeal to the culture of Irish suffering serves to make the song popular amongst Irish listeners to this day. Search in the poems of Katharine Tynan:. Autoplay next video. Rating Card The Foggy Dew.Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew Again I am a bachelor, I live with my son We work at the weaver's trade And every single time that I look into his eyes He reminds me of that fair young maid He reminds me of the wintertime Part of the summer too And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms Just to keep her from the foggy.