Faithful And Hopefuls. Poem by THE HOLY POET

The faithful thousands walk along
Whilst faceless hopefuls just look on
We sing our hymns of love and hate
As we march up the Gallowgate.
The Huns still stare through evil eyes,
They watch us march to Paradise
They're like a rash, a rare disease
Who've brought this country to its knees
Although they're drowned out at the game
They've earned the name of Scotland's shame
At any game, in any place,
We rely on them to bring disgrace.
They've no respect and show no care,
It's sad to be a bear.