Verse from internee No 1065, Joseph Lee, Hut 26:

'I wished I was a little Duck
All swimming on a lake
And I beside you swimming too
A faithful little drake.'

Verse by Internee 1071, Hut 26, Rath, JohnJ. Horan:

'When the evening sun is setting
And your mind from care is free
When of Rath Camp you are thinking
Won't you sometimes think of me.'

Verse from Internee No 832, James Donegan, No 9 Tent B Company:

'O would the God above
Send down a dove with wings as sharp as razors
To cut the throat of those English dogs,
That shot our Irish leaders'

Also a joke from Thomas McGivinchy: 'Happy is the man who sits on a wasp's nest, for he shall rise again.'

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 'B. J. M. ', Hut 26, Rath Camp:

'Oft as I've lain in my hut at night
And through the roof the rain came pouring
Then I've tucked the clothes around my head
And joined the chorus snoring'

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'

Verse transcribed by Internee 1537, D Company, Hut 31, Patrick J. Daly (Tullamore, Offaly):

'Lloyd George no doubt when his life ebbs out
Will ride in a fiery chariot
He will sit in state on a red hot plate
'Twixt the Devil and Judas Iscariot
Annanias that day to the Devil will say
My Presidency here has failed
So move up higher
Away from the fire
And make room for the liar from Wales.'

Verse transcribed by Jimmie Egan, Hut 25 ,of Henry Street, Tullamore:

'Where ever England's forces assemble
on land on sea or in air
We pray thee Oh Lord God of Battle
to send all thy thunderbolts there
Wherever her plotters are plotting
Wherever her fortresses frown
With thy vengeance as vivid as lightening
Strike her down Oh Lord God!
Strike her down.'

Verse by Michael Keating, Dublin:

'When this you see
Remember me
sawing wood

All fates defying
Seriously trying
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.