Through The Turnstiles - Poem by Daniel McDonagh
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.
Our fathers would lead us to Parkhead
With the history of this famous club,
We would travel by bus to old Glasgow Cross
Then stand by the doorway of an old Celtic pub.
Through the turnstiles at Parkhead, we would enter,
Welcomed by the bold Celtic sound,
Angels would sing when the Celtic would win,
We were blessed by God’s hand at the Holy Ground.
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