No' Wee, No' Huge But Big (Pat) . Poem by THE HOLY POET

Before Sky invaded every home, our fans flocked to the pub
The pub was rammed, the drinks were tanned down at our wee club
A place to watch The Celtic and get to meet new friends
And although we've changed the venue, those friendships never end.

The big man had his ways though words are hard to find
But I'll bet the rest could find some though most would be unkind,
His anecdotes will make you laugh, his jokes will split your sides
And he laughed at every joke he told ‘til tears poured from his eyes.

We've all accomplished things in life but some moreso than others
And we thank you Pat for founding this Celtic Band of Brothers
We may not be the youngest club with its members growing old
But this little Band of Brothers is a Band of Celtic Gold.

We know that you're not leaving, you're just maybe, stepping down
You led by your example, who now will wear your crown?
You said you'd lost your patient side with nothing more to give,
But who'll now remind me of my tasks, my memory's like a sieve.

You're the heartbeat of this little club, it's in your Celtic soul
And the workload that we put on you, eventually took its toll
We know you're quite a private man, proud of your Irish roots
But born in sunny Saltcoats! O' that, Ah hae mah doobts!

You led us off in many songs, "Spiky Railings" springs to mind
Your face lit up, you loved it, and these are ties that bind,
Those memories are not just plentiful but for 18 years were great
And I'm sure there's more to come from you; Ah! Those Hymns of Love and Hate.

For this club and its charities you always gave your best
And wore our wee club's colours with pride upon your chest
The green and white flows through you, may our friendships never fail
So here's to you Pat Brusnahan, our King of Clubs, Hail Hail!