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Simply Celtic
A lush green carpet of turf

A lush green carpet of turf
Beneath pale blue Glasgwegian sky's
A surround of steel, bricks and mortar
Its what we Celtic fans call Paradise
From Kerrydale street to Janefield
Our North, South, West and East
The blood that moves in the body
Its in the air, we Celtic fans breathe
Players with such pride in the jersey
The Hoops, its the green and the white
Cup finals, Historic league titles
Its Celtic park, on a big European night
Our history, the songs, the occasion
A very Celtic meeting of minds
The phoenix that rose from the ashes
Heart and soul, are the ties that bind

Our present, the past, its our future
From the Jungle to the majestic North stand
Those floodlights that stretched into Heaven
Lighting those cold, dark winter nights
In the journey we made down to Lisbon
Milan, and the warmth of Seville
The sweet upper hand over our rivals
The long climb to the top of the hill
In the ticket that granted you entry
Or a lift over turnstyles, long gone
Its Glen Daly singing his heart out
As the players run out to his song
The warmth that fights against cold
A support be they young, be they old
Our sun, our moon, and our stars
As Celts how lucky we are
Feelings that feel like no other
That first kiss you stole as a child
All the thrills from season to season
The Celtic fans in Paradise who go wild
That dream goal you scored in your garden
Thinking you'd scored it like Larsson
All the memories of heroes who've passed
The four leaf clover, we Celts, have as hearts
The fans who would walk accross water
To return to this shore to be near
In the arms of the wide Celtic family
With the love, all Celtic fans share
In the ghosts of our dearly departed
Celtic greats or those fans who believe
In a club that was built for the people
Wearing the green, in long or short sleeves
Its the shoreline we reach in the tempest
When only the moon, knows the road home
The compass that eternally points East
To a green Eden, born of an Irish priest
A mazy dribble from Wee Jinky or Naka
All the laughter, the banter, the patter
The doubt until faith overcame defeat
Kids wi a baw on tenemant lined streets
A fire burns bright from first loves fuel
The bitter defeats, felt so horribly cruel
Celtic, our Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
Its the post's, the net, its the ball
All the dreams, the reality of success
Our shamrock, the clover, the crest
So hard to explain true loves source
Its quite Simply Celtic.....of course.

Posted by voc1967 on Thursday 06 February 2020 - 12:25:55 | Comments (1)  |  printer friendly
  • Lizardking @ 06 Feb 2020 : 13:06
    Celtic , a way of life
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