The Old Firm Derby. Poem by THE HOLY POET

They moan if there’s some trouble and complain if there is not
They criticise the songs we sing and the players we’ve just bought
They say there’s too much passion then say we’ve lost our pride
But the truth is they’re just jealous of two wee teams on the Clyde.

They ridicule our referees and decisions that are made
With sarcastic innuendos on how our game is played
If we try to pass they fault us or sneer at long balls up the field
But the truth is they’re just jealous of the Old Firm’s world appeal.

The tongues that criticize us only say what we can see
Do they understand our passion as they watch along with me?
They see a game through blinkered eyes with no passion or no heart
It’s the oldest and the greatest of which they will play no part.

If you take away the bigotry and hatred from this game
You’ll lose the pride and passion and take away its fame
It’ll just be like your derbies, nothing special, nothing great
Just a sanitised old football match where the moneymen dictate.

To know what passion feels like, to feel the fire and steel
It rises up inside you, this you can’t conceal
You feel that special pride as you welcome on your side
And all of this from two wee teams, who live down by the Clyde.

You can take Milan or Manchester, London or the ‘Pool
They can’t compare, don’t come near, the Scottish fixtures’ jewel
Of all the derbies worldwide, there’s none that can be found
To match an Old Firm derby, right here in Glasgow town.