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'We meet again, the master and the student The one a sadder but a wiser man, the other still imprudent But age and youth, have one same thought That Erin's soul shall ne'er be bought. Soon may her Freedom's star arise And soon may be her foe's demise. Then you and I from fetters free Shall haste to Leix and Offaly. But we together shall come again As free, unfettered, unshackled men. And then we'll fill and quaff the glass That ours and Erin's dawn has come at last.'
Verse transcribed by Frank McGuinness (Kilbeggan), Hut 31, Rath Camp:
'Our Flag
We raised it up - no foot shall back A step upon the forward track For tis not in the days of wrath When woe and darkness haunt our path It is not when the gallows tree Is decked with fruits of liberty - That we should bend the knee or pull Thee down 'Our homes beautiful'.
Painting of a pair of slippered feet and a cat in front of a fireplace. Entitled 'My thoughts go wandering home. Visions of Comfort' by J. Halpin (Drogheda), Rath Camp.
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.'
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.
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.