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Quote transcribed by Frank McGuinness (Kilbeggan), Rath Camp:

Work Advice

'Work my friends, is the lot of man! Man was sent into this world to earn his living by the sweat of his brow. You didn't find Adam walking about the Garden of Eden with his hands in his pockets! '

Quote by Patrick Pearse transcribed by Seosamh Mac Dáibhéid, Tintown No 3 Camp, on the second day of the [hunger] strike ('An dara lá de'n stailc'):

'Life springs from death, and from the graves of patriot men and women spring living nations.'

Verse transcribed by [D.]. Ledwidge, Camp Quartermaster, Tintown No 3 Camp:

'As the years were before me began
Shall the years be when we are no more
And between them the years of a man
Are as wares the wind drives to the shore.'

Signature of Séamus Ó Riain, tintown No 3 Camp, with the note:

'An séadh lá de'n stailc' (the sixth day of [hunger] strike).

Note by Edward Dunne (Clonaslee, Laois), Tintown No 2 Camp:

'Give real champagne
to your best friends
Give real pain to your sham friends
Just a few from a bashful poet.'

Verse transcribed by Sean Whelan (Enniscorthy, Wexford), Tintown Camp, 'on the second day of the fight for freedom':

'Oh God! to have fought, to have won, to have died
Defending the old flag
By sweet Slaney side.

Quote from Terence MacSwiney transcribed by Joe Harrington, Internee 3544, Tintown Camp No 3:

'No physical victory can compensate for spiritual surrender'

Verse transcribed by Paddy Quinn (Kildare), Hut 11, Rath Camp:

'We're getting darn little to eat or drink
We're getting darn to ware
And we're all living wild now here in the clink
On the Curragh of Kildare
The margarine question is being discusted
And our own quarter of bread is now dry
If it is not soon settled our axles
will rust and then sure I'm damned, we must die.

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.

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.