Yule Rites
German and Celtic Yule-Rites have been grafted in!
And like the custom of the mummers and the wild men;
But i paid the waitress for my tea and my whiskey,
Because i don't want to accentuate the negative!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Grafted Into the Army
Our Jimmy has gone for to live in a tent,
they have grafted him into the Army,
he finally puckered up courage and went,
when they grafted him into the Army.
I told them the child was too young, alas!
At the captains forequarters, they said he would pass,
they'd train him up well in the Infantry class,
so they grafted him into the Army.
Oh, Jimmy, farewell! Your brothers fell way down in Alabammy;
I though they would spare a lone widder's heir,
but they grafted him into the Army.
Dressed up in his unicorn, dear little chap,
they have grafted him into the Army;
it seems but a day since he sot in my lap,
but they grafted him into the Army.
And these are the trousies he used to wear,
them very same buttons, the patch and the tear;
but Uncle Sam gave him a bran' new pair
when they grafted him into the Army.
Now in my provisions I see him revealed,
they have grafted him into the Army;
a picket beside the contented field,
they have grafted him into the Army.
He looks kinder sickish -- begins to cry,
a big volunteer standing right in his eye!
Oh, what if the ducky should up and die,
now they've grafted him into the Army.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Molech
Our wonderful world,
Our wonderful homes,
Of the customs and traditions;
But, no one is stronger than Yahweh!
Bye-bye to summer and hello to winter,
And like Nimrod and his 'mother-wife' Semiramis!
Bye-bye to winter and hello to summer,
And like the resurrection of nature after winter!
To Constantine the Emperor,
But, Nimrod married his mother.
To the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony,
With Easter Bunny and Easter Coloured Eggs!
And like the Aztecs of Mexico.
The goddess Ceres,
The German and the Celtic Yule rites;
And like a writer's ink!
But, Saturnalia became what is called Christmas today;
Yes, the very worship of the god Saturn!
Of the pagan customs,
Of the servants of Satan,
And to the Norse people of ancient Scandinavia;
Norse Ostara,
Norse Eostra,
And like a mysterious force!
And, of the worship of the ancestral spirits,
But marked by human sacrifice and lighted candles for Baal!
All in the name of hercules who was Molech.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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With a Celtic Scarf around My Neck
Hail Hail to all the Celtic fans
I see you are in good voice
Let us stand within McConnell's pub
And sing and drink to the Bhoys
For we were born and it's in our blood
To follow the bhoys in green
For the Glasgow Celtic are the finest team
The world has ever seen.
It was many years ago when our fore-fathers
Left their native home
As they said goodbye to Donegal,
To Limerick and Tyrone
They fled the English landlords
And the famine that scoured their land
They crossed the sea to Glasgow town
With Ireland’s cross in their hand.
To Jock Stein and the Lisbon Lions
Our fathers would raise a cheer,
As they sat within their local pubs
With a whiskey and a beer,
And the tears would flow when a ballad was sung
Of Cardenden’s finest son
As the pub stood quiet to the memory
Of Celtic’s young Johnny Thomson.
We were Christened at the Chapel
With a Celtic scarf around our necks,
Remembering all the miles, we had traveled
As we would wander to old Parkhead,
Up the Gallowgate, we would make our way
Taking our dear old father’s hand
As he told us, we should walk with pride
To be a faithful Celtic fan.
And today we make the same pilgrimage
As we have done for many years,
Standing or sitting at Paradise
Letting the world hear our Celtic cheers,
Let no man take away our faith
In the bhoys in the green & white strip,
For we live our days in the Celtic way
Supporting our heroes on Parkhead’s pitch.
Nov’11th 2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Right Or Wrong
Emotions and the senses of mankind,
And of all the rich merchants who benefit during Yule-Tide season!
For this pagan custom had taken over the earth,
And many still do not even know whether it is right or wrong.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Our Fathers Gave Us Celtic
Our ancestors came from Ireland
Who brought their pride and their faith,
They gathered as one at Celtic park
To express their cultural identity.
Our father’s gave us Celtic
And the songs we sing today,
Our Irish heritage we celebrate
When watching the Bhoys in green play.
The Celtic jersey was worn by icons
Who played with heart and soul,
Diehards for the Celtic cause,
Entertainers, who brought us goals.
We stood through miserable Scottish weather
Suffering the defeat of a Rangers game,
But our spirits stayed strong as we chanted loud
In praise of Celtic’s name.
But it is football, faith and passion
To Parkhead we make our way,
As we sit were our father’s once stood
To see football played the Glasgow Celtic way.
Feb’22nd 2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Indian Gin And Whisky Dry
All day, all night you feel as if the earth could fly.
Three more all for fine Indian Gin and whiskey dry,
Fine Indian Gin and whiskey dry.
Small town , closed down; There's nowhere else around to try.
Disturbingly a voice would cry,
"Go home, no loan, You'll have you gin and whiskey dry,
You'll have your gin and whiskey dry".
Four ten, four men lining up for their handy brandy.
All's gone, you're none, came the bartender's reply.
But I've tried and I'm tied to Indian Gin and whiskey dry.
To Indian Gin and whiskey dry (repeat 4 times
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Max Wanted
What do you want from me?
Max's wife said
and he looked by her
at the waitress
at the cafe
who was walking
with some order
behind his wife's back
and he noticed
the cute ass as she moved
the way she swayed
and the hands
holding the tray
huh? What is it
you want from me?
his wife repeated
her eyes peering at him
taking in
that aspect of him
as he turned his head
look said Max
following the waitress
to the table across the way
his eyes slowly
undressing her
his mind making up scenes
like in some movie
you say come on Honey
let's go out for a meal
and talk
and what are you doing
looking elsewhere
and not talking
his wife said
spittle on her lower lip
Max looked back
at his wife and said
oh yes sure
I was thinking
of the Picasso print
we saw the other day
you know that one
we both liked
and you said you'd like it
for your birthday
well maybe
I ought to get it
what do you think?
And the waitress
looked over at Max
as she went by
and he saw
a whole new ball game
in her eyes
and caught the cheek
and ear
and was sure
he captured some aspect
of her perfume
and his wife said
Picasso?
That Picasso?
are you sure Max?
and she went into a daze
and smiled
and Max imagined himself
and the waitress
and sex games
and a party
going wild.
poem by Terry Collett
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Indian Gin & Whiskey Dry
All day, all night you feel as if the earth could fly.
Three more all for fine indian gin and whiskey dry,
Fine indian gin and whiskey dry.
Small town , closed down; theres nowhere else around to try.
Disturbingly a voice would cry,
Go home, no loan, youll have you gin and whiskey dry,
Youll have your gin and whiskey dry.
Four ten, four men lining up for their handy brandy.
Alls gone, youre none, came the bartenders reply.
But Ive tried and Im tied to indian gin and whiskey dry.
To indian gin and whiskey dry (repeat 4 times)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honky Tonk Crazy
Theres a hundred dollar bill on the table
To get me through the night
Got a tight blue jean honky tonk queen
To hold me tightand the cowboy bands in mission
Of texas waltz
Its music to my ears and a need to hear
To keep me from climbing the wall
Cause tonight Ill be honky tonk crazy
Rip roaring wild, one more time
Tonight Ill be, honky tonk crazy
Let the whiskey whisk her out of my mind
Let the whiskey whisk her out of my mind
Got all my friends around me
Telling the latest jokes
They cant see the jokes on me
Im at the end of my rope
So I step out side and drink one
In the driving rain
Thats all right if Im high tonight
Cause shes already drove me insane.
Cause tonight Ill be honky tonk crazy
Rip roaring wild, one more time
Tonight Ill be, honky tonk crazy
Let the whiskey whisk her out of my mind
Let the whiskey whisk her out of my mind
Oh, let the whiskey whisk her out of my mind
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Custom Machine
Check my custom machine
Well shes metal flake blue with a corvette grill
(check my custom machine)
And they say it looks better when shes standin still
(check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa
Ill let you look but dont touch my custom machine
Well with naugahyde bucket seats in front and back
(check my custom machine)
Everything is chrome, man, even my jack
(check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa
Ill let you look but dont touch my custom machine
With stereophonic speaker set with fibrosonic sound
(check my custom machine)
Magnesium spokes, it stands an inch off the ground
(check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa
Ill let you look but dont touch my custom machine
Oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Within Parkhead’s Dream
Green for glory
And the team we love
Regained the league
And the Scottish Cup.
Pubs in Glasgow
Sang Celtic’s name
The passionate fan
Igniting Celtic’s flame.
Our colours bold
The hoops of green
Were memories are gold
Of our father’s team.
With the loss of Larsson
We’ll carry on
Supporting the Celtic
In story and song.
We’ll stand with pride
Within Parkhead’s dream
Were the ghost of legends
Support the bhoys in green.
June’8th 2004
poem by Daniel McDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whiskey And Jesus
He said, it's whiskey and Jesus
it's grandkids at the door
it's the woman lying speechless
she cant take it anymore
it's the roar of desperation
that sickens and devours
it's the stillness of alone
that turns minutes into hours
it's whiskey and Jesus
He said, it's whiskey and Jesus
it's the hoe in the field
the hawk circling overhead
dust on the windowsill
it's empty shelves in the pantry
callouses on his hands
it's nowhere to turn
the pride of a man...
it's whiskey and Jesus
He said, it's whiskey and Jesus
it's the lines 'neath his eyes
it's the tight lipped anger
that never questions why
it's the memories and ashes
of a thousand highway miles
the hard face of dignity
painted by the trials...
it's whiskey and Jesus...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Whiskey Man
Whiskey mans my friend, hes with me nearly all the time
He always joins me when I drink, and we get on just fine
Nobody has ever seen him, Im the only one
Seemingly I must be mad, insanity is fun
If thats the way its done
Doctors say he just a figment of my twisted mind
If they cant see my whiskey man they must be going blind
Two men dressed in white collected me two days ago
They said theres only room for one and whiskey man cant go
Whiskey man will waste away if hes left on his own
I cant even ring him cause he isnt on the phone
Hasnt got a home
Life is very gloomy in my little padded cell
Its a shame there wasnt room for whiskey man as well
Whiskey mans my friend, hes with me nearly all the time
He always joins me when I drink, and we get on just fine
Just fine
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have been a waitress, and I was a damn fine waitress too, let me tell you.
quote by Jessica Lange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scottish Referee’s Bible of 1690
Football in Scotland,
is a religion on its own
When it involves
both Celtic and Rangers,
But how many times
are the Celtic to be crucified
By a referee
who is a Rangers supporter?
Does the Scottish Football Association
travel the country?
And recruit men from
the local Masonic Lodges,
For the referee’s bible of 1690,
is to prevent
Celtic from winning
any Old Firm matches.
Last Saturday’s match
was another fine example
Of the SFA’s faith
in Presbyterianism
As Thompson and Lennon,
both became victims,
To Stuart Dougal’s
biased refereeing.
poem by Daniel McDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coimeád an Creideamh
Green flags are unfurled and fill Glasgow's sky
Banners of Celtic held up high
Keep the faith, with pride, Walk on
Fill your heart with a Celtic song.
Pull on that green & white jersey
Reared on the Celtic way
A battlecry will sound from our soul
From the mouths of men, young and old.
As we stand watching, God's chosen team
With our children wearing the proud green,
Through victory & defeat we will gather strong
As Paradise will hear our hymns & songs.
Jan’9th 2006
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Brother Walfrid Stands by Parkhead's Gates
The Celtic songs filled heaven's sky
and we marched along the Gallowgate
Joined by comrades, brothers and sisters,
As Brother Walfrid stood by Parkhead's gates.
The Celtic passion is such devotion,
Heritage, culture and our faith,
Our father’s father bore the tradition,
While Brother Walfrid stood by Parkhead's gates.
In the Garngad, from the parish of St.Roch’s,
Ireland’s sons and daughters would pray,
From the Royston Road, we would find our spiritual home
As Brother Walfrid’s soul welcomed us through Parkhead’s gates.
Our Irish inheritance we will cradle,
With the Glasgow Celtic, we will celebrate,
On the Holy Ground will play heroes & legends,
Blessed by Brother Walfrid who stands by Parkhead's gates.
The green and white drapes over our heart
As we are educated on the Celtic way,
And as we gather within Celtic Park,
Brother Walfrid stands by Parkhead’s gates.
Nov’17th 2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Halley's Waitress
Halley's waitress
Never comes around
She's hiding in the kitchen
She's no where to be found
I just want some coffee
Is that too much to ask
Halley's waitress
Is not up to the task
And when she finally appears
It's like she's been away for years
It's been so long, so long
Darling, don't you know
We miss you when you're gone
So long, so long
Darling, don't you know
We miss you when you're gone
Halley's waitress
Has vanished once again
She's talking to her agent
She's calling all her friends
Forget about the coffee
I'll just take a check
Halley's waitress
You know you'll get yours yet
It's been so long, so long
Darling, don't you know
We miss you when you're gone
So long, so long
Darling, don't you know
We miss you when you're gone
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amhán Na bhFiann
Ireland’s National Anthem
Has been branded a sectarian song,
As it’s sang on Parkhead’s terracing
By Celtic’s faithful sons,
Can we celebrate at Celtic Park
The heritage of our ancestors?
Or are we to be silenced by the critics
For heralding our Irish culture?
2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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And it's very strange, but I think there is something very common - not only in Celtic music - but there is a factor or element in Celtic music that is similar in music that we find in Japan, the United States, Europe, and even China and other Asian countries.
quote by Nobuo Uematsu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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