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Verse by Mícheál Ó Baoghaláin (Meath):

'Wherever the forces of crown assemble
Whether on land, or sea, or the air
Strike them down O Lord
Strike them down
And may their bones be ground into manure
And spread over the land to grow crops for the poor.'

Verse by Michael Keating, Dublin:

'When this you see
Remember me sawing wood
And all the time
Every fate defying
To escape if I could'

Verses transcribed Padraic Ó Briain, Rath Camp:

They lost! But O! They conquer
These men who their land would save
A firing party at break of day.
And a tasty quick-lime grave.

But think not of them with scorn
Nor mourn for the cause they died
This death saved Ireland's honour
What mattered all else beside.

We've been told twas a failure by those that ne'er understood
How the new born soul of Erin was baptised in martyrs' blood
And to all who crave for freedom, as the world its
meaning know, I give them this little story
The story of Glorious Easter Week.

Verse by T. P. Duke transcribed by Tomás Ó Dúigh (Clare), Rath Camp:

'The Strike
Act 1
A rush. A cheer. A bursting of doors
with bedboard or with spike
Locks flying in Air, Ah! it's the
Boys in camp have gone on strike
The Guard called out their wind is up
in vain they bawl and shout
but the Boys don't seem to mind them
in groups they walk about.'