My crime was being Irish
When I stepped onto Scotland’s shore,
My accent was mocked and ridiculed,
My culture and faith, arrogantly ignored.
I was an outcast on foreign soil,
Presbyterian pulpits condemned me to hell,
Jobs were few and I was victimized
For I could not read, write or spell.
Scotland was not the New World
That took me by the hand,
But offered poverty and starvation
That I had left back home in Ireland.
The grace of God shone in a man
Who enriched us with his dream,
As Brother Walfrid brought hope to the Irish,
With Celtic, Glasgow’s Irish team.
Daniel McDonagh 2006