On the twentieth of November those heroes did assemble,and left the Greystones on the sea. They hopefully did sail, with sweet and pleasant gale, until to Howth’s harbor they came. Between Howth and Malhide, where the seas did swell with pride, and tremendously they chafed and foamed. Old Boris blew a squall, which overset their yawl, and four heroes of them here met with their doom.
Brave Edward Doyle was as hardy as steel, when the boat overturned he mounted her keel. When four of his comrades death’s arrow did feel he lay between hope and despair. The “Carlin”, full crew , had just come into view and heard poor Ed Doyle for to cry, “Oh, Merciful Lord, will you to me afford, or send some relief from on high?” Three grand attacks were then made by the crew, But still cruel Boris wildly blew, their sails were all rent, and they could not pull true, which grieved the young heroes full sore. When he saw each tackle losing ground,he suddenly gave bent to his grief, saying , “Are you going away, brave boys, or can you afford no relief? Since there is none, dear parents and friends, adieu, this night and forever, I am lost to you.” Keen death shot its arrow , and did him subdue, and Neptune bore off with the prize.
It was ten months before, on their own native shore, they were very near meeting their doom, “Til John Doyle, their friend, and some more gallant men, saved them from a watery doom. but, where was he? Or, was he at sea, Or any stout hero from Wicklow to Bray? Oh, health to you, John Doyle, wherever you be! If he were there that night, no danger would haunt him I’m sure.
It is now my intention, their names for to mention, In sorrow I now must begin. There were Joe and Edward Doyle, two brothers stout and loyal, John Tierney and brave Michael Quinn, Brave Richard Toole, whose loss we may deplore, he is gone with the angels, his soul to adore. He is gone forever to return no more until the Judgement or Great Counting Day.