The Broad Black Brimmer of the IRA - The Wolfe Tones

There’s a uniform hanging

In what’s known as Father’s room

A uniform so simple in it’s style

It has no braid of silk nor gold

No hat with feathered plumes

Yet me Mother has preserved it all the while

One day she made me try it on

A wish of mine for years

«Just a memory of your father, Sean» she said

And as I tried the Sam Browne on

She was smiling through her tears

As she placed the broad black brimmer on me head

It’s just a broad black brimmer

It’s ribbons frayed and torn

By the careless whisk of manies a mountain breeze

An old trench coat that’s a battle stained and worn

And the breeches almost threadbare at the knees

A Sam Browne belt, with a buckle big and strong

And a holster that’s been empty many a day

And when men claim Ireland’s freedom

The one they’ll choose to lead 'em

Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA

That uniform was worn by me father long ago

When he reached me mother’s homestead on the run

That uniform was worn in that little church below

When Father Mac he blessed the pair as one

And after Truce and Treaty and the parting of the ways

He wore it when he marched out with the rest

And as they bore his body down the rugged heather braes

They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast

It’s just a broad black brimmer

It’s ribbons frayed and torn

By the careless whisk of manies a mountain breeze

An old trench coat that’s a battle stained and worn

And the breeches almost threadbare at the knees

A Sam Browne belt, with a buckle big and strong

And a holster that’s been empty many a day

And when men claim Ireland’s freedom

The one they’ll choose to lead 'em

Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA

There’s a uniform hanging

In what’s known as Father’s room

A uniform so simple in it’s style

It has no braid of silk nor gold

No hat with feathered plumes

Yet me Mother has preserved it all the while

One day she made me try it on

A wish of mine for years

«Just a memory of your father, Sean» she said

And as I tried the Sam Browne on

She was smiling through her tears

As she placed the broad black brimmer on me head

It’s just a broad black brimmer

It’s ribbons frayed and torn

By the careless whisk of manies a mountain breeze

An old trench coat that’s a battle stained and worn

And the breeches almost threadbare at the knees

A Sam Browne belt, with a buckle big and strong

And a holster that’s been empty many a day

And when men claim Ireland’s freedom

The one they’ll choose to lead 'em

Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA