Wearily yet soldierly with heads held high, to pipes and drumbeat we marched out, but the stench of death still hung in the air, and we left our hearts ‘neath the bloodied stones, covering many a tunic with its fill of bones; then as we passed through the West Watergate, we swore, somewhere in Europe on a future date, we would fight again for Limerick! I have overheard them tell of my daring, say I am war-crazed when I laugh in my fury, they speak of savage deeds at Ramillies, when we charged our old time enemy; yes! much have I dared, but they little know why - that I care not whether I live or die – since my love Máirín Bán was blown heavens high near the Black Battery in Limerick.