The Holy Ground Of Celtic Park Poem by Daniel McDonagh

I left my heart in dear old Glasgow,
Where the rain cleansed my emerald soul,
In the terracing I stood at the sanctuary of Parkhead,
Where played the heroes of my childhood.

On Saturday’s I looked forward to wearing the green
As I was anxious & eager to support my team,
Who looked like God’s standing on the pitch,
Each player a gladiator in the Celtic strip.

Songs rang out from the Parkhead chorus,
Passionate & faithful are the Celtic supporters,
The 12th man on the park when the Celts where down,
The players got a lift from the Parkhead sound.

I stood through the emotions of an Old Firm game
Where the history was sang in Ireland’s name,
My blood boiled, my nerves where shattered
As we screamed our anger at the referee’s decisions.

When skill on the pitch produced a sparkling display,
We sensed a goal coming Celtic’s way,
Be it a goal from Dalglish, Nicholas or McAvennie,
It drove the fans at Parkhead into a frenzy.

When European teams walked through the doors at Celtic Park,
They encountered the heroes of Celtic’s past,
Whose legacies still live within our sacred shrine,
A testament to the years of when they where Celtic’s pride.

John Thompson saves, can still be seen,
Johnny Doyle proudly, wearing the green.
Bobby Evans strong, a master on the ball,
Brave Bobby Murdoch scoring another beautiful goal.

I left my heart in dear old Glasgow,
But my faith in Celtic is still as strong,
If you see me, wearing the old hoops,
I’ll sing for you any Celtic song.

April'26th 2003