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

[Chorus]
It's just a broad black brimmer
With its ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many's a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's all battle-stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Browne belt with the buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty many's a day
But when men claim Ireland's freedom
The one should choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the I.R.A

It was the uniform being 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 oul' 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 braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast
[Chorus]
It's just a broad black brimmer
With its ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many's a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's all battle-stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Browne belt with the buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty many's a day
(Not for long)
But when men claim Ireland's freedom
The one should choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the I.R.A