I think every rendition of The Foggy Dew I've ever heard has given me chills.
Twas England bade our wild geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
Or the shore of the gray North Sea
But had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we would keep where the Fenians sleep
'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew