A Friday night in Glasgow,
Heaven’s rain was a gentle drizzle,
By the Barrowlands, I drank in Bairds Bar,
A thirsty throat required some ale.
...
The men behind Celtic
When the team was born,
Had political agenda’s
In the name of Ireland,
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Our spiritual home is Ireland
Were our fore-father’s had to abandon,
As the Irish Diaspora fled in droves
To escape poverty and the famine.
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Celtic songs of celebration
We sang throughout the night,
As we walked home along the Gallowgate
Praising the Bhoys in green & white.
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Hail Hail to all the Celtic fans
I see you are in good voice
Let us stand within McConnell's pub
And sing and drink to the Bhoys
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On a Saturday afternoon
We would make our way to Celtic Park
Where we would stand and cheer the Bhoys in green
While waving Ireland’s flag,
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The water path of crystal
diamonds has moulded
over the years, haunting clouds
drag the sky in grey, the ocean
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No Irish, no Catholics,
No jobs, no trade,
No priest, no church,
No sanctuary to pray.
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Listen to your heart my friend
and see what it has to say.
Pay attention to its rhythms
when you stand down Parkhead's way
...
The green hills lay silent,
Glens whispered within a quiet breeze,
The sky was as blue as un-chartered ocean
While birds nested in the oldest of oaks trees.
...