When Brother Walfrid came to Glasgow
And settled in the old east end,
He would build a team for the diocese
That sheltered Irish immigrants,
The players of Maley, McCallum and Kelly
Proudly wore the Celtic Cross,
The Glasgow Celtic name would flourish
As the sons of Erin would rejoice.
Cups and trophies and League titles
Would make their way to Paradise,
As Willie Maley nurtured the talents
Who played on the pitch beneath Parkhead’s sky,
Alec McNair and big Dan Doyle
And a Bhoy from Croy called Jimmy Quinn,
Would play on the pitch in a Celtic strip
And hear the sons of Erin celebrate a win.
From the Garngad, came James McGrory
Who gave to the Bhoys, his heart and soul,
And granddad, he would dance on the terracing
At the sight of every McGrory goal,
And Patsy Gallagher and Charlie Tully
Would terrorize defenders down the wing,
Their skills and courage in the green & white
Would make the sons of Erin sing.
And big Jock Stein, as player and manager
Led the Celts to silverware,
He saw the growth of Johnstone and Murdoch
As victory songs rang in the air,
Football was his pride and passion
That he taught to all his players,
And the Celtic shirt, the players would treasure
That each should be so proud to wear.
The faithful who embrace the Celtic
Take their place at Celtic Park,
They have watched McNeill, McStay and Larsson
Play for Celtic from their hearts,
Devoted to the name of Celtic
They proudly wear their emerald green,
They will travel far from every corner
To sing the songs of Brother Walfrid‘s team.
Celtic scarves and Ireland’s flag
Are on display at Celtic Park,
As every fan, will stand behind,
The men who play for Celtic.
Daniel McDonagh 2005