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.
With Rosemarie Boyle, we talked of Celtic,
Of the games that we used to attend
And as she drank her Bacardi & diet coke
We spoke of John Doyle, a Celtic legend.
A picture hung on Bairds bar wall
That caught the eye of each Celtic fan
Of John & Robert Kennedy;
The pride of the Irish-American.
Memorabilia of Celtic’s history
Covered the walls and even the ceiling,
On the gantry stood a bottle of Buckfast,
Poured in measures for a couple of shillings.
The pub was quiet this Friday evening,
Just a few regulars sat by the bar,
So we finished our drinks & headed for the door
And ventured to Bar67 for a couple of more jars.
Glasgow Oct’21st 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem