There's a uniform that's hanging in what's known as father's room
A uniform so simple in it's style
For it has no fancy feathers nor no hat with feathered plume
Me mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me put in on a wish of mine for years
'In memory of your father Sean,' she said
And as she bore the Sam Browne on she was smiling through her tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on my head
It's just a broad black brimmer it's ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk from many's a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's so battle stained and worn
And britches that are threadbare at the knees
A Sam Browne belt, it's buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty many's a day
And when men claim Ireland's
Freedom the one they'll chose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA
This uniform was worn by me father years ago
When we reached me mother's homestead on the run
And the same on Monday morning in the little church below
When Father Mick he blessed the pair as one
And after Truce and Treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it as 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 chest
It's just a broad black brimmer it's ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk from many's a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's so battle stained and worn
And britches that are threadbare at the knees
A Sam Browne belt, it's buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty many's a day
And when men claim Ireland's
Freedom the one they'll chose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA