I must say I find the 'popular' version of this song a bit ham-fisted
The one I still sing is the one from the Hammond collection which, while still maintaining its erotic nature, handles the sly sensitivity perfectly, humourous without being ribald

THE FOGGY DEW

When I was a bachelor, airy and young
I followed the rovin' trade
And the only harm I ever done wrong
Was to court a servant maid
I courted her in the summer season
And part of the winter too
And the only harm that I ever done wrong
Was to keep her from the foggy dew, dew, dew,
Was to keep her from the foggy dew.

One night as I lay in my bed
A-taking of my sleep
She came and stood by my bedside
And most bitterly she did weep
She sobbed and sighed and tore her hair
And cried, What shall I do
For this night I've resolved to sleep with you
For fear of the foggy dew, dew, dew
For fear of the foggy dew

'Twas in the first part of the night
We did sport and play
And in the second part of the night
She in my arms did lie
And when we woke on the next day's morning
She cried, I am undone
Ah hold your tongue, you silly young wench
For the foggy dew has gone, gone, gone
For the foggy dew has gone

Now supposing you should have a child
'Twould make you laugh and smile
Supposing you should have another
'Twould make you think awhile
Supposing you should have another
And another and another one too
'Twould make you leave off your foolish young pranks
And think of the foggy dew

Now I loved this girl with all my heart
I loved her right through my life
And in the second part of the year
I took her for my wife
I never told her of all my faults
Yet never intend to do
But every time she winks and smiles
We think of the foggy dew, dew, dew, dew

I always enjoy the reaction of audiences when you introduce it as 'The Foggy Dew' and they expect the "Easter Morn" one - worked a charm several times last year during the Easter Week commemorations
We recorded another song under the same title from veteran Clare fiddle player, Junior Crehan, back in the nineties

THE FOGGY DEW
Martin Junior Crehan Bonavilla, Mullagh
Recorded in the singer's home, September 1992
Carroll Mackenzie Collection

Oh, the sun shone on high, when l bade my love good bye.
As she went forth in exile to a far-off land.
And l smiled for her sake, though my heart fit to break
Sank in dark, doom despair as l clasped her hand.
Then l sighed for the rain, against the window pane.
And the cold dark blast of the wintry wind.
Through the long silent years of my hopes and my fears.
For the blue sky would bring my sad grief to mind.

But when twilight falls, oft' I'd dream that she calls.
And the rich, soft music of the voice I love
Makes the dusk grow bright, and the dark haze night
Glow with heavenly light like the stars above.
And when I wandered through, the dimmed foggy dew
That falls o'er the hills when the sunbeams wane.
Sure I know that at last, when the mists are all past.
That we'll meet to be parted ne'er again.

But when twilight falls, oft' I'd dream that she calls.
And the rich, soft music of the voice l love
Makes the dusk grow bright, and the dark haze night
Glow with heavenly light like the stars above.
And when I wandered through, the dimmed foggy dew
That falls o'er the hills when the sunbeams wane.
Sure l know that at last, when the mists are all past.
That we'll meet to be parted ne'er again.

Conversation between Junior Crehan, Pat Mackenzie and Jim Carroll: Before the song:
Pat: You mentioned The Foggy Dew' the other night. Do you have it all? Junior: l haven't the one about Dublin, but I have a small, shorter 'Foggy Dew'.

After the song:
Jim: Lovely. Where did you have that from?
Junior: Oh, l heard that and I going to school.
Jim: I never heard that.
Junior: Didn't you? It's called 'The Foggy Dew' but there's another one:

High over Dublin Town, they hung out the flag of war.
Better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar.

"This song was written by Alfred Percival Graves and published in his 'Irish Songs and Ballads' in 1880.
Junior says he learned it when he was at school. It has nothing whatever to do with the erotic English song of the same name, nor the Irish song celebrating Easter Week 1916.
It is highly likely that the attributed author of the Easter Week 'Foggy Dew', Canon Charles O'Neill (1887-1963), borrowed 'Graves' evocative title as a 'calm before the storm' scene-setter.
The English title is said to be a corruption of 'bugaboo*, the old term for the ghost that the gullible young woman is invited to hide from, under the young man's blankets."