Note by P. Ó Rioghardán, Tintown No 3 Camp:

'Did you hear anything? Yes. They can't keep us long now.'

Verse transcribed by P. Bracken, Internee 3362 (Clonaslee, Laois), Hut 12, Tintown Camp:

'Remember me when this you see
Remember me forever
And don't forget the days we spent
in Tintown together'

Verse transcribed by M. Galvin, Tintown No 3 Camp:

'Silent and cold thou art now at rest
'Neath the sanctified sod, in the land thou loved best
Thro' tears and thro' sighs we think of the same
That the traitors have placed on Ireland's fair name
Oh! Rory O Connor thy name and thy story
Are engraved in our hearts and crowned there with glory.
Tho' thy pulse has stopped beating thy shade is to-day
With the loved ones who perished that old
Ireland might say
Tho' grim death awaits us we'll have not a sigh
For our own motto is Freedom for that Freedom we'll die
On the green sod of Erin, our life's blood will flow
Until Ireland a nation conquers the foe.'

Quote from Pádraig Pearse transcribed by Pádraig Ó Catháin (Carlow), the Long Hut, Tintown Camp:

'We know only one definition of freedom - it is Tone's definition, it is Mitchell's definition, it is Rossa's definition. Let no man blaspheme the cause which the dead generations of Ireland have served by calling it by any other name and definition, than by their name and definition.'

Verse transcribed by Walter A. Mitchell (Rahan, Offaly), Hut 3, Tintown No.2 Camp:

Just a greeting from a comrade
Who lies in chains with you
To show you that a gloomy past
Did not our souls subdue
May all the pleasures which this world
To freeman's life, doth give
Be yours in all your future days
When slaves no more shall live.'

Quote from a parody of Thomas Campbell's 'The Exile of Erin' transcribed by Liam Ó [Dulchaointigh], Tintown No 3 Camp, who ascribes this version to Rudyard Kipling:

'There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin
the dew on his thin robes was heavy and chill
Ere the dust from his brogues he fully had shaken
He was Member of Parliament introducing a Bill.

Quote by Terence MacSwiney transcribed by J. Hickey, Monstown, Cork:

'Death for some is in reserve
Before our flag can fly.'