Broad Black Brimmer
Author: Noel Nagle
There’s a uniform that’s hangin’
in what’s known as Father’s room
A uniform so simple in its style
It’s got no braid of gold nor silk
Nor hat with feathered plume
but me mother has preserved it all the while
One day she had me try it on
a wish of mine for years
“In mem’ry of your father dear,” she said
And when I put the Sam Brown on
She was smilin’ through her tears
When I put the Broad Black Brimmer
On me head
Chorus
It’s just a Broad Black Brimmer
Ribbons frayed and torn
In a careless whisk of manys about the breeze
An old trench coat that’s all battle stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Brown belt with a buckle big and strong
And a holster that’s been empty manys a day (but not for long)
When Ireland gets her freedom
The one they’ll choose to lead ’em
will wear the Broad Black Brimmer
Of the I.R.A.
It’s the uniform be worn by me father long ago
When he hit me mother’s house flat on the run
It was the uniform be worn in that little church below
When Father Mike he blessed the pair as one
After truce and treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest
(and the best!)
And when they laid his body down
His brother’s heads were raised
When they put the Broad Black Brimmer
on his head
