Brother Walfrid

For the poor and the famished,
The Irish and their children,
For the community who came from shores of Erin
To settle in Glasgow’s east end.

To raise awareness for the sick
Who had traveled on coffin ships,
Charity began from a Marist priest
As bread and water were hailed as a feast.

Goodwill never shone from Scotland’s heart
To those who were born under Ireland’s harp,
In the church and parish, they knelt and prayed
As hope was promised from Brother Walfrid.

And when the sport of football reached the streets of Glasgow,
When poverty still grew around the man from Ballymote,
Brother Walfrid found faith for the poor and the sick
As football was introduced to, the famous Glasgow Celtic.

Sept’7th 2004

poem by Daniel McDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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