Gulls in the sea fields screech in the wind,
In thorn hedges foxes hold their heads low.
Along the coast from Skerries to Dundalk Bay
Waves lash the rocks, then pull back
With low moaning, clouds darken the day.

A woman in black walks behind her man,
Two thousand uniforms march as one.
As the gleaming vehicle turns for the church
She walks beside his face as though to guide,
Lifts a hand instinctively to bring him close.

"Is é mo laoch", good man cut down,
Local hero down, all of us brought low.