Daniel McDonagh Poems

A hundred years of the Hoops in 2003,
A century of wins for the fans to cheer,
From the days of playing at old Celtic Park,
To the modern day stadium that Fergus built.
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I have followed the Celtic since I was a lad,
where I first went to Parkhead with my Granddad;
he stood in the 'Jungle' on that fine proud day
as I sat on his shoulders to watch the Celts play.
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It was the poor, the desolate and the starvation
That was bestowed to Glasgow’s Irish nation,
But the east end of Glasgow would benefit in Brother Walfrid’s eyes
His dream of football being played at Paradise.
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In eighteen hundred and eighty-eight
Brother Walfrid walked along the Gallowgate,
Were immigrants of Ireland walked the streets,
No food in their stomachs, no shoes on their feet.
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For the poor and the famished,
The Irish and their children,
For the community who came from shores of Erin
To settle in Glasgow’s east end.
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In the town of Glasgow, there is a football team,
That was born from Brother Walfrid’s dream,
Where the Irish saw, hope and a promise
On the players that wore the Celtic Cross.
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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.
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In the year of 1967
When the European Cup was won,
My father danced down Maryhill Road
And a Celtic song was sung.
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From the vision of Brother Walfrid
From the ancestry of Irish immigrants,
From the leadership of Dan Doyle,
To Jimmy Quinn, the Bhoy from Croy,
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My great-granddad came from Sligo
And in Glasgow, he found his dream,
Side by side with his fellow compatriots,
He embraced the Bhoys in green.
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