| «Oh father, why are you so sad,
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| on this bright Easter morn?
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| When Irishmen are proud and glad
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| Of the land where they were born.»
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| «Oh, son, I see sad mem’ries view
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| Of far-off distant days,
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| When, being just a boy like you,
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| I joined the I.R.A.
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| Chorus:
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| Where are the lads who stood with me When history was made?
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| Oh, gra mo chree I long to see
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| The Boys of the Old Brigade.
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| In hills and farms the call to arms
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| Was heard by one and all,
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| And from the glens came brave young men
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| To answer Ireland’s call.
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| 'Twas long ago we faced the foe,
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| The old brigade and me,
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| But by my side they fought and died
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| That Ireland might be free.
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| Chorus.
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| And now, my boy, I’ve told you why
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| On Easter morn I sigh
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| For I recall my comrades all
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| From dark old days gone by,
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| I think of men who fought in glens
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| With rifles and grenade
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| May Heaven keep the men who sleep
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| From the ranks of the old brigade.
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| Chorus. |