Long ages past in the obscure days of seventeen centuries ago, so the annals tell, this place was a battlefield, the place of your travail. Two centuries later Saint Patrick came here and preached his message on the high ground at Singland – and he spoke it well! Through the ages since then – battles, wars and sieges; slaughter, plagues and famine; aborted treaty, oppressive laws – all of these were bookmarks in the pages of your history and through all such trials have you survived with an enduring dignity. You buried your dead, war-torn gaps were filled, toppled stones re-laid; scars remained, but you still held your head high, whilst between the bookmarks, trading and industry progressed and there it can be read, artistic effort flourished. Your people have always cherished you heartily and proudly, the old town blended with the new, all framed in a lush green fringe, as you spread yourself along the banks of the lordly Shannon River at that place where the surging Atlantic tide could reach no further. You are, old city, a monument to a people’s unbreakable spirit and although we cavil at your shortcomings, carp at your obduracy - for we would strive to have you even better – - it matters not, A Grádh, for these are but lover’s quarrels. “An Ancient city well studied in the arts of war,” Gallant Limerick! Imperishable treasure! How dearly, how truly and how deservedly have you earned your motto.