Daniel McDonagh Poems

On the 30th day of my hunger strike
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In the east end of Glasgow, there’s Parkhead
Were the voice of the Celtic is sung,
As we’ve stood many a day, watching the Celtic play,
Introduced to the hoops when we were young.
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The Celtic Cross
The old Celtic Cross adorned the breast
Of the men who wore Celtic’s first strip,
This Christian symbol representing a halo from Christ
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On the terracing at Parkhead we gather
Watching the Bhoys in green play,
we’ll sing you a song of the Celtic
And of the players who played down Parkhead’s way.
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The Holy Spirit of Brother Walfrid’s ghost
Stands on the steps of Parkhead,
As he welcomes the souls of Stein, Maley & McGrory,
At Paradise, these legends once played.
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Many years ago, when we traveled far from home
We set out to find a new life in Toronto,
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(1)
In the old Garngad there lived a man
Who prayed day and night to God,
As a pint of Guinness was for medicinal purposes
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McGuigan is a member of the AOH,
And he attends Mass every Sunday
He has been to Lourdes and the Vatican,
And received from the Pope, a Rosary.
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Gather all and listen to a story that is going round
Of how Our Lord & St.Patrick walked into Glasgow town
They first stopped at the Croy Tavern for a glass or two of ale
As they strolled into old Glasgow crossing o'er the Campsie hills.
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The language of Celtic
Is in our blood,
As we’ve grown on the legends
Of this football club,
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