In the year of 1967
When the European Cup was won,
My father danced down Maryhill Road
And a Celtic song was sung.
When he took a trip to Parkhead
To watch Celtic’s playing sons,
He would stand within the famous Jungle
And a Celtic song was sung.
When he came home from the Firhill Tavern
With a carry-out in his hand,
We would hear him climb the tenament steps
Were a Celtic song was sung.
When we stood together at Paradise
Over Real Madrid, the Celts had won,
We travelled home full of joy,
Were a Celtic song was sung.
And still this day, I watch the Celtic play
And it is a wondrous thing,
For far above Parkhead’s sky
I still hear my father sing.
Mar’3rd 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful, thank you for sharing the memory.