Daniel McDonagh Poems

A Friday night in Glasgow,
Heaven’s rain was a gentle drizzle,
By the Barrowlands, I drank in Bairds Bar,
A thirsty throat required some ale.
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The men behind Celtic
When the team was born,
Had political agenda’s
In the name of Ireland,
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Our spiritual home is Ireland
Were our fore-father’s had to abandon,
As the Irish Diaspora fled in droves
To escape poverty and the famine.
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Celtic songs of celebration
We sang throughout the night,
As we walked home along the Gallowgate
Praising the Bhoys in green & white.
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Hail Hail to all the Celtic fans
I see you are in good voice
Let us stand within McConnell's pub
And sing and drink to the Bhoys
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On a Saturday afternoon
We would make our way to Celtic Park
Where we would stand and cheer the Bhoys in green
While waving Ireland’s flag,
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The water path of crystal
diamonds has moulded
over the years, haunting clouds
drag the sky in grey, the ocean
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No Irish, no Catholics,
No jobs, no trade,
No priest, no church,
No sanctuary to pray.
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Listen to your heart my friend
and see what it has to say.
Pay attention to its rhythms
when you stand down Parkhead's way
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The green hills lay silent,
Glens whispered within a quiet breeze,
The sky was as blue as un-chartered ocean
While birds nested in the oldest of oaks trees.
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