Svart Vin все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I,
Their armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by;
No fife did hum, nor battle drum did sound its dred tattoo,
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out through the Foggy Dew.

Right proudly high o'er 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,