Oh, father why are you so sad On this bright Easter morn' When Irish men are proud and glad Of the land that they were born? Oh, son, I see in mem'ries few Of far off distant days When being just a lad like you I joined the IRA. Where are the lads that stood with me When history was made? A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see The boys of the old brigade. From hills and farms a call to arms Was heard by one and all. And from the glen came brave young men To answer Ireland's call. 'T wasn't long ago we faced a foe, The old brigade and me, And by my side they fought and died That Ireland might be free. Where are the lads that stood with me When history was made? A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see The boys of the old brigade. And now, my boy, I've told you why On Easter morn' I sigh, For I recall my comrades all And dark old days gone by. I think of men who fought in glen With rifle and grenade. May heaven keep the men who sleep From the ranks of the old brigade.