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.