Paradise consumes the passionate hearted,
Where history has grown, legacies started,
The traditional walk along the old Gallowgate
Has left footprints that our father’s have made.
Celtic Park, the destiny of our souls,
Our eyes have witnessed game winning goals,
When the rains of Scotland creep in from the shade,
The hoops of the Celtic will never fade.
A chorus of songs surround the ground,
As banner & flags accompany the sound,
Children are all dressed up in green & white,
It’s better than the highlights on a Saturday night.
Larsson’s displays are a sermon to unfold,
Johnstone’s trickery is a memory in gold,
Names of the past are etched as legends,
As Celtic Park is the cathedral for Celtic fans.
Aug'21st 2003
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem