Broad Black Brimmer

There's an uniform that's hanging in what's known as father's room
An uniform so simple in its style
It has no braid of gold or silk no hat with feathered plume
Yet my mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
"In memory of your father, son" she said
And when I put the Sam Browne on she was smiling through her tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on my head.

(Chorus:)
It's just a broad black brimmer with ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's all 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's a day
But when men claim Ireland's freedom, the one who'll choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA.

It was the uniform been worn by me father long ago
When he reached me mother's homestead on the run
It was the uniform me father wore in that little church below
When old 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 when they bore his body down that rugged heather brae
They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast.

(chorus)
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