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
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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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The Birth of Celtic
In eighteen hundred and eighty-eight
Brother Walfrid walked along the Gallowgate,
Were immigrants of Ireland walked the streets,
No food in their stomachs, no shoes on their feet.
These souls of the famished Irish nation
Had made their home in Glasgow’s east end,
Ridiculed & provoked by the Protestant majority
Who could not accept the Irish faith & identity.
In Scotland’s east coast, Edinburgh, the capital,
Had saw the rise in the game of football,
Where a team, Hibernian, played under Ireland’s harp,
And brought victory with them onto the park.
And Brother Walfrid, a Marist priest,
Saw poverty prosper in his parish,
He suggested a savior to the Irish nationalist
Who had never seen a ball been kicked on a pitch.
A team would be organized; a stadium would be built,
Players would be sourced who had courage & skill,
And the income generated from watching the team,
Would feed the tables of Irish families & children.
Players were asked, some where even stolen,
From teams like Cowlairs and Renton,
Land was rented that was barren and unkept;
History was about the wake the giant that slept.
Glasgow’s Irish saw Brother Walfrid’s dream come true
As an organized football team now grew,
A Celtic cross was stitched to a white jersey,
As preparations were made for a “friendly”.
Glasgow Rangers, the visitors, took to the field,
Already a threat to the Scottish game,
But the dominance faded for the team in blue,
As the Irish team of Celtic won by a score of 5-2
The birth of Celtic, was Brother Walfrid’s dream,
As history has favoured the bhoys in green,
From the legacy of Jock Stein, to the resurgence of Martin O’Neill,
The passion & commitment can be found on Celtic’s football field.
July'22nd 2003
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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All Roads Lead to Paradise
It will not be long now,
The days are drawing near,
Until we are standing again at Celtic Park
Letting the bhoys hear our cheer.
We will descend upon the Holy Ground,
Travel, from far and wide,
To see Neil Lennon lead onto the field
The bhoys in green & white.
We will bring our sons and daughters,
Proudly wearing their Celtic colours,
And they will cheer on the Glasgow Celtic;
Our heritage and our culture.
Supporters will take the Gallowgate walk,
Some will travel by bus and ferry
But all roads will lead to Paradise,
Were played Larsson, Dalglish & McGrory.
July’2006
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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The Flag Issue at Parkhead in the Fifties
In Scotland in the fifties,
In football terms,
Protest was a blaze
From the grumpy old chairmen,
They took to a cause
That never since has died;
The flying of Ireland’s flag
Over Parkhead’s sky.
So bold Robert Kelly,
Born to Celtic’s dynasty,
Acted upon his heart
And wrote himself into history,
He sat at his desk
With pen in hand,
And wrote a letter, for a favour,
From the Irish PM.
“Dear Mr.DeValera,
How have you been?
Have you been reading the results
Of the bhoys in green?
Our attendance at Parkhead
Improves with every game,
I just wish our football
Would improve the same.”
“I have a small plea,
In this letter I ask,
As Celtic’s being condemned
For flying Ireland’s flag,
We’re proud of the fathers
Who built this club,
Proud of our heritage
As Ireland’s sons.”
“Ireland’s flag,
We’ll never take down,
But protest galore
May be reaching the crown,
So the teams in Scotland
Have gathered as a unit,
And turned the flag issue
Into a game of politics.”
“I took a walk around Parkhead,
It was a sunny day,
And noticed our flag of old,
Is starting to fray,
To the establishment of football,
I would just love to brag,
Can Ireland, our brother,
Deliver Celtic a new flag? ”
The letter was stamped
And mailed to Dublin,
By special delivery
Not carrier pigeon,
And DeValera, in the penmanship
Of Yeats’ ghost,
Wrote, “No problem, son,
It’s in the post.”
Oct'25th 2003
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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The Man in Green
Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,
You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.
I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,
I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.
I wear the emerald green
In memory of my father,
Garngad born,
A faithful Celtic supporter,
He walked the path to heaven,
Over ten years ago,
As he stands with Our Lord
Wearing his green, white and gold.
I wear the green for the Celtic legends,
Who have left our lives,
Knowing that they entered heaven
With Our Lord on their side,
I wear it for Willie Maley, Jock Stein
And young John Thomson,
I wear it for Bobby Murdoch, Johnny Doyle
And wee Jimmy Johnstone.
I wear the colours of Celtic,
Each and every day,
I pray for the bhoys of Parkhead each night,
And to God, I do say,
Why do all the Orangemen,
All hate the sight of green?
For green’s the finest colour
That the world has ever seen.
March’29th 2006
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Celtic Ray
When lewellyn comes around
And he goes through market town
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready?
When mcmannus comes around
On his early morning rounds
Crying hey...
Youll be on the celtic ray
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
When the coal brick man comes round
On a cold november day
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready? are you ready?
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Ive been away from the ray too long
Ive been away from the ray too long
All over ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, come home children
Children, come home on the celtic ray
In the early morning well go walking
Where the light comes shining through
On the celtic ray
Come home children
Come home on the celtic ray
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mighty Horny Power Rangers
They've got a libdo and a desire
That can't be controled
They've got the power
To sex you in the shower and they always score
No one can ever keep these rangers down
The power of love sweet love is on their side
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Mighty Horny Power Rangers
They love to take their dates
Hard into their hands
They know to always use condoms and practice safe sex
No one can ever keep these rangers down
The power of love sweet love is on their side
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh you Mighty Horny Power Rangers
No one can ever keep these rangers down
The power of love sweet love is on their side
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh you Mighty Horny Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
Oh oh Power Rangers
poem by Ramona Thompson
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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
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Power Rangers Pop Stars
Baby, one more time
It's up to you
The earth you must defend
Stop the bad guys
In their tracks
No more alien attacks
The Power Rangers Pop Stars are here
Made for a moment like this
With high flying kicks
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
Proving their worth
Again and again
Our planet they will defend
Rangers for us all
Rangers thank you for hearing our call
We know you won't let us fall
Go go Power Rangers
Power Rangers Pop Stars
The best rangers of them all....
Go go Power Rangers Pop Stars!
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Power Rangers Psycho Prison
Watch out!
They're on the run
On the road to ruin
Here comes a force
Badder then before
Evil wanna settle the score
Oh no!
Don't go near
They're cut you from ear to ear
Power Rangers gone psycho
Power Rangers are wacko
No no
Don' t go near
They're cut you from ear to ear
Power Rangers gone psycho
Power Rangers gone wacko
Better watch out
More dangerous then before
No no
Don't go near
They're cut you from ear to ear
Power Rangers gone psycho
Power Rangers gone wacko
Just escaped
Made a prison break
They're no fakes
The real deal is here
So you had better beware
Power Rangers
Power Rangers
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Power Rangers Zero
Dumber then before
No....zero
Dumbed down for more
No....zero
Rangers don't know the score
Zero Power Rangers
Zero.....
Higher they can't soar
No.....zero
Fired for the way they snore
No.....zero
They're never score
Zero zero
No no Power Rangers
No no Power Rangers
No no Power Rangers
Zero Power Rangers
poem by Ramona Thompson
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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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Power Rangers Paranormal Force
Not normal
More to these warriors
Then meets the eye
A whole new team
Here to make the bad guys scream
Go go Power Rangers
Go go Power Rangers
Power up
Show the bad guys who's really keeping score
You are the boss
No way will Earth suffer a loss
Go go Power Rangers
Go go Power Rangers Paranormal Force
We're counting on you
So cool!
All the things that you can do
Masters going down for the count
Paranormal Force standing tall
Rangers to answer the call
Go go Power Rangers
Our warriors to defend
Never giving in
The world is safe again
Thanks to you
Power Rangers Paranormal Force!
Go go Power Rangers!
poem by Ramona Thompson
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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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Power Rangers S.T.D.
Power Rangers S.T.D.
Power Rangers to the rescue!
Go! Go! Go!
Power Rangers S.T.D.
Power Rangers to the rescue!
Go go go go!
Horny heros on our side
Horny heros all the time
Out to perform safe sex and save the universe
No matter who you are
If you're near or far
Fat or thin
Black or white
It'll be all right
Cos you can always call out
Sex Patrol....Sex Patrol Delta!
Go! Go! Go! Go!
Power Rangers go!
Power Rangers S.P.D.
Power Rangers to the rescue!
Go go S.T.D.!
poem by Ramona Thompson
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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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The Jungle Bhoys
On the terracing at Parkhead we gather
Watching the Bhoys in green play,
we’ll sing you a song of the Celtic
And of the players who played down Parkhead’s way.
Chorus
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
We’re the sound of the Paradise voice
Our culture, we’ll bring back to Parkhead
Hail Hail to the bold Jungle Bhoys
We’ve grown in our years with the Celtic
Raised on the history and pride
Wishing we could play for the Celtic
And wear the jersey of the old green & white
Chorus
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
We’re the sound of the Paradise voice
Our culture, we’ll bring back to Parkhead
Hail Hail to the bold Jungle Bhoys
As we travel to the east end of Glasgow
Wearing our colours of green, white & gold,
We’ll celebrate and sing of the Celtic
Who live forever in our green and white soul.
Chorus
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
we’re the sound of the Paradise voice
our culture, we’ll bring back to Parkhead
Hail Hail to the bold Jungle Bhoys.
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
we’re the sound of the Paradise voice
our culture; we’ll bring back to Parkhead
Hail Hail to the bold Jungle Bhoys.
Nov’2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Power Rangers Swallowed In Space
Set tongues to wagging
Now sucking harder then ever before
Swallowed in space
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Yes!
Yes!
Do it!
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Swallowed in space
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Power Rangers
Swallowed in space
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Power Rangers Lust Galaxy
Far far away
Deep in space
To a sexy galaxy you will go
Power Rangers go
Power Rangers go
Power Rangers go
There lies a key to an anal affair and the condoms you must use
Ohhhhhh rangers!
Turn us on
Power Rangers Lust Galaxy
Turn us on
Power Rangers Lust Galaxy
Turn us on
Power Rangers Lust Galaxy
Oh Power Rangers.....
Lust (Lust) Galaxy
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Football fans are so fickle
I love my football
always have
and always will.
But I moan over prices
rather stand than sit
but still buy a season ticket.
I slag off our players
but clap and cheer
when they score
I'm a two faced fan.
Say to my mate
I'm not coming anymore
but I'm there the next game.
Join in shouting at the referee
calling him obscene names
but secretly thinking he's spot on.
Jolly banter with the away fans
in the pub before the games
but dislike them all inside the ground.
Us football fans are all the same
only happy when we are winning
but miserable when we're not.
Is fickleness contagious?
widespread at football grounds?
common only to the football fan?
poem by Kevin Halls
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