The Boys of the Old Brigade

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 memories 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...