Those Green And White Hoops Poem by Daniel McDonagh

Down the Gallowgate, I took a stroll,
Passed the Barra’s that stole your soul,
In Baird’s pub, I wet my dry throat,
A bottle of wine in the pocket of my coat.

On this stretch of road to Celtic Park
I remember the days that I walked with my dad,
I would stand outside pubs, in the sun and the rain,
As he would have a few pints before the start of the game.

Then we would run like whippets to the Holy Ground,
As I got a lift at the turnstiles and in to the sound
Of songs from the Jungle, in full voice;
From the tunnel would appear, McNeill and the Bhoys.

The crowd would rise when we were on the attack,
To see Dixie Deans put the ball into the back of the net,
And when wee Jinky plied his trade up and down the wing,
I would go home that night trying to do the same thing.

Those green and white hoops are tattooed in my heart
As I have followed the Celtic through days that were dark.
And when the pine box has taken its last night,
The voice from inside will say, ‘Hail Hail.’