THE HOLY POET

I can’t explain to lesser men, they just don’t comprehend
What I feel within my heart, they’ll never understand
We’re more than just a football club, much more than a team
With a richness money cannot buy and that others only see in dreams.
...

In the year we won the treble and the RFC went bust
We opened up our floodgates whilst theirs collected rust
The league is now devalued or so we've heard them claim
But the Green Brigade just partied as they always do at games.
...

We all know Lewis Carroll was a little partial to cocaine
But he'd have trouble dreaming this one up, it's way beyond insane.
The exodus is gathering pace with yet more walking out
They're dead but they're still drowning with the newco now in doubt.
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They came over in their thousands
starving and deprived
Destitute and penniless,
these Irish were denied
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He looked like something from the past,
People mocked but he laughed last
From Canada, back home he came
To buy our club and keep the name
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Henke was slim but strong as an ox
And his pace was so quick that once in the box,
You'd gamble your mortgage, you felt it a cert
That wee Henke Larsson'd hit the back of the net.
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His antics on the sidelines are that of many fans
Speaking out or standing fast but all he gets is bans.
These are his emotions and the passion that he feels
And he pays again with deathly threats which most find so surreal.
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Farewell The Prince of Goalies

So tragic, such a loss
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A poke o' chips an' Irn Bru, scoffed an' guzzled doon
How I used tae dae a' this, wi' only hauf a croon
Jumpin' oan a 64, the Auchenshuggle bus
Ma wid ayways worry an' make an awfy fuss.
...

(In memory of Jackie Morrison who died 10th November 2011) .

I lived my fears and cried my tears but now I wear a smile
For the Ayrshire bhoy, my Scottish friend, is with me all the while
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50,000 seats were filled to watch the Huns today

But they forgot that Killie could show them how to play
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The Rangers now are in demise

Cos all their truths are based on lies
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He's Motherwell's Del boy, whealing and dealing
But this time he's had it, allegedly stealing
What he got for a pound was a licence to kill
And he just set about on his life's greatest thrill.
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We'll miss you Glasgow Rangers and stories we will tell
Of how Celtic came from Heaven and you lot came from Hell
And when they pull down Ibrox and I think it's going to come
It's the taxman's way of saying, you should have done your sums.
...

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.
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Mr. Murray isn’t silly, he’s just keeping out of sight
And letting dear old Craigie boy deal with all his *****
Insolvency’s the latest craze that’s sweeping Glasgow town
And just like every other scam, those lads won’t let us down.
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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.
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He’d quietly go about his job and be up the crack of dawn
Then halfway through the morning shift, he’d just say, “Right, I’m gone”
And he’d fly to mass in Paradise, singing out the Hymns
But not the kind you’ll hear in church, they’re songs of famous Tims!
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This man’s a hero to the fans with his gallus little stance
Determination, grit and steel, we’ll always have a chance.
He took the field against the foe, his eyes all fired up
Relentless running up and down, the day we won the cup.
...

He joined Celtic, aged thirteen years, a ballboy at the game
The youth team knocked upon his door, his skill had gained him fame
The bhoy from Viewpark Uddingston, would stake an early claim
To become the greatest ever Celt, the world has ever seen.
...