Willie Maley was Celtic

With a managerial career of 43 years
This Newry born son welcomed the cheers,
Of the working class fans who made their way
To watch football played the Celtic way.

Thirty trophies, his teams did win,
Teams built on players like McGrory and Quinn,
And guiding the Celtic to victory and glory,
Was the man in the soft hat, Willie Maley.

The names of Gallagher, Delaney and Jimmy McStay
Are heralded through the years of Parkhead’s legacy,
But the most successful manager in Scottish Football History,
Gave his heart to the Celtic, William Patrick Maley.
© Daniel McDonagh - Mar’8th 2005

The Number 18 Shirt

I took my son to Parkhead
To show him where the Celtic played,
I placed a scarf around his neck
And a Celtic cap upon his head.

We strolled along the Gallowgate
With the rain falling from the sky,
But the horizon shone like a summer’s day
As the sun stood high over Paradise.

In through the turnstiles we made our way
As he saw for the first time Parkhead’s pitch,
Fans gathered in their seats and sang
Waving flags, wearing their Celtic strips.

When Jackie McNamara led the team
From the tunnel to the field,
Celtic Park erupted with passion,
My son, he shouted and yelled.

For 90 minutes he sat in his seat
Admiring the football and the atmosphere,
He sang with the crowd and booed the ref
And when Celtic scored, he jumped and cheered.

As we walked back home, he held my hand
And never stopped talking about the Celtic,
I asked him who was his favourite player,
He said, the player in the number 18 shirt.
© Daniel McDonagh  - Nov’2004

Bertie Peacock

On to God's green, heavenly pitch
Wearing an old fashioned Celtic strip,
Appears Bertie Peacock, Coleraine's son,
Who captained the Hoops in the victorious 7-1.
He now rejoins his old mate, Charlie Tully
Is greeted by James Edward McGrory,
And they reminisce their old Celtic days
When playing for the Hoops, came pride & glory.
July’22 2004
© Daniel McDonagh

Bertie Auld

Fiery, determined,
A cunning magician,
Never shirked from suspect tackles
When playing in Celtic’s midfield.
A Lisbon hero,
A gem at football
Courage was his armour
His left foot could kill.
July’5th 2004
© Daniel McDonagh

Billy McPhail

God has welcomed
Another Celtic legend,
To his all-star
Football team,
Billy McPhail will take
The centre forward position,
As he teams up with
Doyle, Murdoch & Thompson.

© Daniel McDonagh - April'7th 2003

Bobby Murdoch

A Lisbon Lion is resting
within our Celtic souls,
we remember when he wore the hoops
and scored many a lovely goal.
He's a hero to the faithful
who brought a style to the pitch,
forever a legend in the history
of the famous Glasgow Celtic.

© Daniel McDonagh - August'9th 2002

Celtic - John Doyle

When wearing the Hoops,
Was worn with pride,
A wee man on the wing
Brought the “Jungle” alive,
He’d stand by the touchline
To hear the Celtic songs,
Then he’d dance pass defenders
Bringing the ball along.

From the ground of Sommerset
To the Parkhead soil,
Jock Stein brought to Celtic Park,
Wee Johnny Doyle,
He was playing for a team,
He’d supported all his life,
As he took to the wearing
Of the green & white.

© Daniel McDonagh - Oct'27th 2003

Celtic - Billy McNeill

He stood nine feet tall,
when I was five,
Out jumping forwards
in Parkhead’s sky,
A captain of men,
a leader on the pitch,
Blessed is the hero,
Billy McNeill of the Celtic.
From his days with McGrory,
to the glory of big Jock Stein,
He committed his life
to the hoops of green,
When we captured the trophy
over Milan in Lisbon,
Billy McNeill raised it high,
as Celtic’s captain.

© Daniel McDonagh - Oct'30th 2003

Celtic - Daniel Fergus McGrain

On a football pitch,
Playing at right-back,
Played Danny McGrain,
Poised for another opposition’s attack.
How he played with pride,
Through illness & through injury,
In Celtic’s famous green & white,
Raising trophies in Celtic’s glory.

© Daniel McDonagh - Nov'13th 2003

Charlie Tully

When a Belfast boy wore football boots,
He stored a lion’s heart,
He would part the waves of the River Clyde
As he walked to Celtic Park.

How the fans would hurry,
To the gates of Paradise,
To see this boy from Ireland
Play with a smile in his eyes.

His style was immaculate,
When he played left wing for the ‘Tic,
As Falkirk fans remember,
His goal, curled from a corner kick.

The ghost’ of Hampden still cheer the game
That was played in ‘57,
When Tully and the Celtic team
Beat the Rangers by a score of seven.

© Daniel McDonagh - March'28th 2003

Charles Patrick Tully

An Irish angel
With magical feet,
Walked the cobblestones
On Janefield Street.
From the town of Belfast
To Celtic's Paradise,
A chorus of praise
Rose over Parkhead's sky.
 Daniel McDonagh - July'9 2004

Charlie Nicholas

Once in Scotland, there was a young lad,
Who took all the chances, the chances he had,
He played for the Celtic, he was a sight to be seen,
He played with pride in the old hoops of green.
He was a nightmare to opposing players,
He dribbled past them all with style, grace and flair,
The goalies would shake if he got near the net;
Charlie Nicholas just scored with his head.

The fans in the “Jungle” would dance and sing
When Charlie would do his magical thing,
The ball at his feet, his eyes at the goal,
Charlie’s goals where a fortune in gold,
Playing for the Celtic was a dream come true,
To score goals against the red, white & blue,
His future at Celtic ended with two penalty kicks,
Charlie’s name will remain on fans lips.

He drove the Celtic to victory,
Wit his presence, he brought on a fear,
He tried his hardest, he tried his best;
Charlie Nicholas just scored with his left.
He brought out the fans for them to see,
The greatest player for their money,
His style of play was no surprise,
He had them all dancing at Paradise.

He’s among the famous the Celts have produced,
To bring glory to Parkhead and chances to boost,
With the four leaf clover over his heart,
His love for Celtic will never part.
Nicholas, Dalglish, Tully, McGrory,
They brought the Hops fame, fortune & glory,
They’ve all gone, but they’re still the best pick,
To make the best team out of Glasgow Celtic.

© Daniel McDonagh - 1983

Frank McAvennie's Golden Head

When McAvennie scored Celtic’s goals,
Songs rang out from heaven’s gate,
Celtic’s cross shined high over Glasgow,
For there it has stood, since 1888.
June 1988

© Daniel McDonagh - Sept'10th 2003

James McGrory

From the garden of God
From Ireland’s 33rd county
From the Garngad to Celtic
Came James McGrory.
July’5th 2004
© Daniel McDonagh

John " Jock" Stein

Nine candles where lit
On London Road
to say goodbye
and farewell,.
A green banner
with a golden trim
saluted to victory
of 1967.

© Daniel McDonagh - Feb'16th 2003

John Bonnar

into heaven walks another Celtic soul,
who once graced the line of Parkhead's goal,
as Jock Stein waits with Celts of old,
the steps to heaven are paved green, white & gold.

© Daniel McDonagh - Jan'20th 2004

John Thompson

Slowly burns
The eternal flame
As angels whisper
John Thompson’s name,
The Prince of Keepers,
We sing his song,
A Celtic legend,
Who died so young.
July’5th 2004
© Daniel McDonagh

Lubo Moravcik

A poet, a magician,
Tremendous football vision,
An artist on the ball,
A sculpture with skill.
An ambassador of talent,
Lord, we saw him play,
Celtic Park, his arena,
A portrait of his display.
© Daniel McDonagh - July’6th 2004

Lubo

Farewell to dear wee Lubo
the magician of them all,
you made us stand and cheer you
everytime you had the ball.
Now you're leaving dear old Celtic Park
to travel far and wide,
but you'll always be remembered
of when you wore the green & white.

© Daniel McDonagh - August'9th 2002

Lennon

In the name of Celtic
With courage strong,
The home of Paradise,
Sure, he belongs.

In the green & white,
In those famous hoops,
A passion lived
From his boyhood.

His name we chant,
Determination unfolds,
We pray to God
For a memorable goal.

May he stay
And end his days,
Playing his dream,
The Celtic way.
© Daniel McDonagh – May’10th 2004

Our Neil Lennon

With Ireland’s myths and legends,
Of all the brave battling heroes,
A chapter will open up for Celtic’s Neill Lennon,
As he battles the beast’ of bigoted Glasgow.

As God looks down from his throne in heaven,
While the angels sleep at night,
Songs will praise Henry Larsson,
As Lennon fights for the green & white.

As the demons parade in red, white & blue,
And sing their songs of bigoted hate,
Their taunts and jeers won’t break any bones,
As Lennon’s pride, plays for the Celtic.
© Dec’22nd 2003 – Daniel McDonagh

Neil Lennon

An Irish bhoy from Lurgan Town,
Nelly Lennon’s coming down
On your knees & ankles for
The famous Glasgow Celtic.

He plays with flair, he plays with grace;
Neilly Lennons’s in your face,
Plays his heart out every week
For the famous Glasgow Celtic.

He plays with pride in the Hoops,
You’ll never see Neilly shoot,
When he scores, which is very rarely,
You’ll see him kiss his Celtic jersey.

© Daniel McDonagh - April'1st 2003

Neil Lennon - Celtic Player, Celtic Man

As a boy in blue with Leicester City
he had no fear playing for his country,
but when he moved to God's team to play for the Celtic
it was a crime to be a Roman Catholic.

Harrassed & jeered from the stands
from Windsor Park to the stadiums in Scotland,
but his confidence in his football never fell,
in his first year with Celtic, he won the Treble.

But now the bigots have won before a ball's been kicked,
as a death threat's been made from an Ulster Loyalist,
maybe the Bhoy from Lurgan, our Neil Lennon,
should polish his boots for the Irish Republic.

© Daniel McDonagh - August'29th 2002

Tommy Burns

Staunch in his faith
Devout to the game
A Calton boy by birth,
Tommy Burns is his name.
A left foot with talent
Committed to Celtic on the pitch
His prayers, as a boy were answered
When he wore Celtic’s green & white strip.
July’8 2004
© Daniel McDonagh

Roy Aitken

Parkhead was the battlefield
Aitken, the warrior,
Captain and crusader
Hunting opposition snipers.
The battlecry sounded
The match would start
As Celtic won possession
Up came Roy Aitken’s charge.

July’5th 2004

© Daniel McDonagh

Peter Grant

An altar boy
To Celtic colours,
Growing up on the faith
Of green & white,
Wasn’t a midfield genius
Like Paul McStay,
But his heart & courage
Was reared the right way.
Alongside heroes
Of Aitken & McGrain,
Within the church
Of the Parkhead stars,
When the Celtic fans
Rose to sing and dance
So to did the player,
Peter Grant.

Jan’10th 2004
© Daniel McDonagh – Jan’10th 2004

Paul McStay - The Maestro

A midfield genius,
He was called,
Of the talent he displayed
When on the ball,
He earned his caps
With the Scottish national team,
But his heart played for
The bhoys in green.
Teams from Europe
Wanted to take him abroad,
Where the Latin game
Was filled with foreign stars,
But he chose to stay
Where tradition was on his side,
As he finished his career
In Celtic’s green & white.

© Daniel McDonagh - May'12th 2003

Paolo DiCanio

From Italy's latin skies
to Glasgow's dark grey clouds,
a magician waited on the wing
wearing the hoops, he stood so proud,
he could turn a defender inside out
create Cadette a goal scoring chance
had a temper like a hurricane,
but he made Parkhead dance.
He said he loved the Celtic,
a blessing sent from heaven,
Tommy Burns would mother him
our tempermental number seven,
and when we played the Rangers
a fire lit his soul,
he would run to Parkhead's fanatics
everytime he scored a goal.
You could not blink when he was on the ball,
his talent you could not miss,
he could turn a game to Celtic's gain
with an inch perfect pass.
We sang of his talent,
we praised his name
he was a hero to the fans
at every Celtic game.
But his appetite for Celtic could not last
he left Parkhead when Burns got sacked,
now his green & white jersey and his famous number seven,
are worn by God; Henrik Larsson.

© Daniel McDonagh August'10th 2002

The Lisbon Lions

Ronnie Simpson, “The Faither”,
Stood between the Celtic goalpost,
A guardian by his side,
in the shape of John Thomson’s ghost.
Jim Craig, the right back,
Could go home and play at dentist,
Would tackle any filling,
Like the European matches he relished.
At left back stood Tommy Gemmell,
With his tough tackles on the pitch,
With his lung-bursting runs
And a power in his shots.
Bobby Murdoch at right half,
The finest player some had ever seen,
A wholehearted Celt,
In the jersey of white & green.
Big Billy McNeil, the most famous
Captain in our history,
As player and as manager,
His triumphs are a legacy.
In brave John Clark,
Jock stein saw class,
He played cool under pressure
While intercepting an oppositions pass.
Little Jimmy Johnstone,
Was the entertainer on the wing,
Whose phobia for flying,
Could guarantee Celtic a European home win.
Willie “Whispy” Wallace could
Score goals with his eyes closed,
When he ensured a final at Lisbon,
With two goals against Dukla Prague.
Bold Steve Chalmers would run
His heart out for ninety minutes,
As he covered every blade of grass
That covered Celtic’s pitch.
Bertie Auld, in midfield,
The masterful technician,
Could orchestrate a winning goal
As he taunted & teased the opposition.
Bobby Lennox, could take the ball
And run around the world,
And stop to take a look,
At how he’d score another Celtic goal.
 © Daniel McDonagh - May'28th 2003

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.
© Daniel McDonagh - Sept’7th 2004

Brother Walfrid's Team

In the town of Glasgow, there’s a football team,
That was born from Brother Walfrid’s dream,
Where the Irish saw, hope and a promise
On the players that wore the Celtic Cross.

And the Parkhead years have delivered players
That the fans have prayed for in their prayers,
And the parade of supporters along the Gallowgate
Have walked with their fathers, cheered with their mates.

The memories welcome Willie Maley,
Of the scoring record of Jimmy McGrory,
The golden skills of wee Jinky Johnstone
Where the Jungle praised him in their songs.

The name of Dalglish, in the old famous hoops,
Was the star of Parkhead, in Jock Stein’s book,
A legend of the 70‘s, was the talented King Kenny,
Who swapped the green & white for the red of the Mersey.

And heroes, they come and go at Paradise,
Frank McAvennie and champagne Charlie Nicholas,
But the fans have stayed faithful, through years that were lean,
As the blood of the fans, is a rich emerald green.

We have grown in years but we’re still young at heart,
As we sing of the glory of the players at Celtic Park,
The heroes of today are the Lennon’s and Larsson’s,
The heroes of tomorrow, play in Celtic’s horizon.

© Daniel McDonagh - Nov'18th 2003

Legends, Heroes & Celtic

Goals from Nicholas
Made Parkhead sing,
It was the imagination of Jinky
Playing on the wing.

It was the presence of Dalglish
That other teams feared,
And the captaincy of McNeil
That safeguarded Celtic’s rear.

The cheekiness of Auld
When he was on the ball,
Where the pace of Lennox
Always brought a goal.

It was a life’s work for McStay
And his midfield class,
Tommy Burns’ shimmy
Stubbs’ accurate pass.

John Collins’ free kicks,
Lubo’s cunning magic,
Cascarino’s stunning displays;
Now that was a joke.

A die-hard like Peter Grant
Who never let you down,
Goals from Gemmell & Chalmers
Brought history to Glasgow town.

The strength of big Marc Reiper,
The courage of Tommy Boyd,
The history of Jimmy McGrory,
The record that his name still holds.

From the creation of Brother Walfrid,
To the dream that Fergus brought,
To the traitorous move by Mo Johnson,
Like Judas, he could be bought.

For John Thompson, our goalkeeping prince,
To Bobby Murdoch, our midfield hero,
Like Johnny Doyle, a star in the sky,
Legends live, today & tomorrow.

The fans who travel weekly
To watch the Celtic play,
Are a lifeline to this famous club;
Brought up the Celtic way.

© Daniel McDonagh - July'5th 2003

Biblical Tales Of Celtic

Jimmy Quinn was Samson
Using all his strength,
Lubo was the Baptist,
Who blessed us with his skill,
Bertie Auld, he was Moses,
He could part the tackles of defenders
Bobby Lennox was the boy David,
As he slue the Glasgow Rangers.
Jock Stein stands as St.Peter,
As he guards heaven’s sacred door,
Larsson, as the son of God,
Watch the Messiah score,
Judas, he hid
Among the streets of Govan
Were 30 pieces of silver
Was enough for Mo Johnston.

© Daniel McDonagh - Oct'23rd 2003

Kenny Dalglish

To Kenny Dalglish, Parkhead would sing,
Capturing his talent, crowning him King,
The swagger, the skill, the deadly goals,
When he left for Anfield, it tore at our souls.
© Daniel McDonagh - July’28th 2004

Ronnie Simpson

After winning the League on Sunday,
We now mourn a loss today,
As the Lisbon Lions “Faither”
Has suddenly passed away,
Ronnie Simpson, the legend
Of the famous ’67 team,
Now stands beside Bobby Murdoch
And the immortal, big Jock Stein.
© Daniel McDonagh – April’20th 2004

A Lisbon Lion Trinity

On Parkhead’s field
A shamrock grows,
A trinity for passing,
Lisbon heroes.

For Simpson and Stein
And bold Bobby Murdoch,
Their souls remain,
Names forever echoed.

Joy we remember
In our father’s hearts
When the Lisbon Lions
Played at Celtic Park.

But their hearts remain
Forever Broken hearted
As these Lisbon heroes
Have dearly departed.
(Revised - July'5th 2004)
© Daniel McDonagh

They Wore The Hoops Of Green & White

Jimmy McGrory used his head
More than he used his feet,
In his long shorts and mining boots,
He’d score for the Celtic every week.

The fans would yell for Charlie Tully
At the beginning of every game,
With his Irish charm & daring skills,
He drove the opposition insane.

The emotional play of Tommy Burns,
Had defenders flailing with his twist & turns,
A dedicated player to the green & white jersey,
Committed to every game he played.

A special mention to Neil McCallum,
Who played in Celtic’s first ever game,
With the Celtic cross adorned on his chest,
The first ever goal for Celtic, burst the Rangers net.

The legend of Wullie Maley forever lives on,
40 years at Celtic, this native Irish son,
He’s proudly remembered as manager & player,
Where he brought to Celtic, years of silverware.

The hoops of the Glasgow Celtic
have been worn by many a talented player,
Who brought a touch of history
For all the fans to share.

© Daniel McDonagh - May'16th 2003

The Indian Juggler

Players from all nations
Have represented Celtic on the pitch,
Where their culture is glorified
In wearing a Celtic strip,
And a man from India,
Where traditions are steep,
Stepped onto Parkhead’s hallowed turf
Wearing only bandages on his feet.

Mohammed Salim, to Calcutta,
He was born,
At a time when Nationalist,
Fought the British Crown,
Independence was the cry
Against “The Colonial Rule”,
Where matters could have been settled
With a game of football.

Mohammed’s career started with the
Mohammedan Sporting Club,
Where his skills on the wing
Helped them to 5 consecutive championships,
Then he headed for Europe,
Where days were dark and cold
As he set sail on the ocean liner,
“The City Of Cairo.”

Life in London,
Didn’t warm to his soul,
As he took to the sights
Of industrial Glasgow,
Where his gifted skills
Would be put on display,
As he was offered a trial by
Celtic’s Willie Maley.

Then, he wore for the first time,
The famous green & white hoops,
But his feet were strapped with bandages,
Not, leather football boots,
He shone like a diamond
In his few Celtic games,
Where headlines and praise
Offered him a little piece of fame.

Homesick for India,
Overshadowed his play,
As his career with Celtic
Was just a short stay,
But a charity match
Was played in his honour,
And he donated the gate receipts,
To Glasgow’s needy orphans.

“The Indian Juggler
With the twinkling toes”
Took his skill and trickery
Away from Glasgow’s shores,
He’s still remembered in
Celtic’s history books,
As his son still possesses,
Mohammed Salim’s old green & white hoops.

© Daniel McDonagh - Nov'14th 2003

Special thanks to Jim Craig, Celtic FC, for providing me with the information on Mohammed Abdul Salim.

The 12 Apostles Of Celtic

It was the poor, the desolate and the starvation
That was bestowed to Glasgow’s Irish nation,
But the east end of Glasgow would benefit in Brother Walfrid’s eyes
His dream of football being played at Paradise.

For Celtic’s first ever game,
The team sheet included Wullie Maley’s name,
For forty years he served the Celts with pride
Where trophies were covered in green & white.

In a tiny village, the holy city of Croy,
Was born to Celtic, a broad shouldered boy,
Jimmy Quinn grew and played with no fear,
As defenders & goalies were reduced to tears.

An ocean of sadness for one of Parkhead’s sons
As we lost the bravery & courage of young John Thompson,
Stolen from our hearts, wrenched from our souls,
He’d never again stand within Celtic’s post.

Of  Ireland’s legendary heroes
Each one has a rousing story,
But the tales became a reality
When Celtic signed Charlie Tully.

Our history revolves around big Jock Stein,
9 league championships in a row for the bhoys in green,
But it was a sunny night in the town of Lisbon
That his team of heroes became European Champions.

Who was the best player I’ve ever seen
To proudly wear the hoops of green,
A father was asked by his son,
It had to be the immortal skills of Jimmy Johnstone.

Caesar didn’t live in the vicinity of Rome,
Celtic Park was were he made his home,
He pulled on the hoops, led the team on the field,
Caesar wasn’t Roman, he was Billy McNeil.

Kenny Dalglish was Celtic’s shining star,
Parkhead was his home, his arena,
The goals he scored, the style he played,
He was a legend in his own era.

A Calton boy by birth, a Celtic man at heart,
Tommy Burns gave all, when playing at Celtic Park,
Twist and turns, his skill was no luck,
As manager, he brought home, the Scottish Cup.

Talent, poise, grace and skill
That was possessed by Paul McStay,
To play and captain the Celtic was his fate,
He’s remembered as one of Celtic’s greats.

As the Son of God in Celtic colours,
Henrik Larsson can walk on water,
King of Parkhead, our famous number seven,
When he leaves, black flags will fly in heaven.

© Daniel McDonagh - Oct'17th 2003

Farewell to Henrik Larsson

Farewell to Henrik Larsson
The hero of our soul,
How your memory will forever shine
As we remember all your goals.

While the angels weep in heaven
As you’re missing from their dreams
Who will the faithful sing of?
When you no longer wear the green.

The goals against the Rangers,
You were a thorn to the men in blue,
How Klos hides his embarrassment
When the ‘Gers were hammered 6-2.

In the year of winning the Treble,
When O’Neill was delivered to us,
Your brilliance won the League Cup
And a Scottish Cup victory over the Hibs.

And we danced on the road down the Gallowgate
On the streets of Belfast and Toronto,
Were children wore the hoped #7
In recognition of Larsson, our hero.

And we did the tour of Europe,
Liverpool, Stuggart, Vigo and Ajax,
And watched Larsson and the Celtic
Put four past the mighty Juventus.

To sunny Spain we took our dream
And watched Larsson score two goals
But our hearts they broke for the emerald green
As our tears they flowed in Seville.

In O’Neill’s fourth year, we raised a cheer
As the fans sang victory’s song,
We were Champions but let’s not forget
We said farewell to Henrik Larsson.
© Daniel McDonagh - 2004

Larsson’s Finale

The season of 2004
Was Larsson’s finale,
His seven years at Parkhead
Came to an end,
The angels in heaven
Cried above the Celtic crowd
For at the holy ground of Paradise
He no longer reigns.
© Daniel McDonagh May’2004

The Messiah of Celtic

With tears in my eyes
I looked to the sky
As my scarf of green
Absorbed my tears,
As the Messiah of Celtic
Stood as one on the pitch
And waved goodbye
To seven glorious years.

As grown men cried
And youngsters sighed
We witnessed the farewell
Of an icon,
His wealth of goals
Are engraved in our souls
As he leaves Parkhead
As a legend.

His legacy will shine
As walk through time
Travelling to Parkhead
Supporting the Celtic,
He’ll join Stein & McGrory
McNeill and McStay
Heroes who have worn
The famous hooped shirt.
© Daniel McDonagh - May’31st 2004

Lament for Larsson - Parkhead’s Favourite Son

The last season of Larsson
Lay heavy in our hearts,
As his name was sang in echo
Around historic Celtic Park,
The pain of Seville
We tried hard to erase,
As we entered a new season,
A new league title to chase.

As the players of Celtic played
With courage and with pride,
To bring trophies home covered
In ribbons of green & white,
Before we said farewell
To Parkhead’s favourite son,
We raised the league flag once more
For the legend, Henrik Larsson.

Now it’s the end of an era
A chapter has been closed,
As Larsson walks from Paradise,
How sad stands John Doyle’s ghost,
A special player we’ll cherish
Within our saddened hearts,
As the crowd will no longer chant
For Henrik at Celtic Park.
© Daniel McDonagh - May’26th 2004

The Magnificent 7 - Henrik Larsson

For 7 years
We sang his name,
And grew in confidence
With every game,
We celebrated each
Magnificent goal,
As his halo grew brighter,
The colour of gold.

But his time has come
To walk from Paradise
As tears of sadness
Nestle within our eyes,
Our souls grow quiet
As our hearts will weep,
Our memories cry out
Before we sleep.
© Daniel McDonagh - May’24th 2004

Larsson The Legend

Through all my years as a Celtic man
With the faith of being a Celtic fan,
Emotions drained my old emerald heart
As Larsson took to his last game at Celtic Park.

The sun shone brightly on Paradise
As 60,000 came to say goodbye,
To a man who was born, a hero & legend
And wore the famous hoops in Glasgow’s east end.

His name was sang around the ground
Were tears of sadness could be found,
Before the grief nested in our souls
Henrik said farewell with his last two league goals.

A standing ovation he received after 90minutes,
The finest player ever to wear a Celtic strip,
Parkhead said goodbye to an emotional Henrik,
As he tearfully left the pitch.
© Daniel McDonagh – May’16th 2004

Larsson - Ghod

Can we, as Celtic fans, sing one more song?
As we’ll say farewell to Henrik Larsson,
Where onto the park came a little piece of heaven
When he graced us in the hoops in 1997.
Along with Blinker, Burley and Jackson
We prepared ourselves to Jansen’s first season,
As Rangers set there target for 10-in-a-row,
It was Larsson who’d soon become Parkhead’s hero.
And Scottish football was growing bored and tired
Listening to the gloating & arrogance of the Ibrox choir,
But the faith of Celtic played on the football pitch
As we faced Dundee Utd in the final of the League Cup.
With renovations & a face lift been done at Hampden
The final was played at Rangers’ stadium,
Goals from Reiper, Burley and Larsson,
Ibrox was a sea of green in celebration.
The fans of Celtic sang with joy
As the goals poured in from the Swedish bhoy,
A Ghod he became within supporters eyes,
As history would rise from the field of Paradise.
The season came down to a 2 horse race,
As the Glasgow giants played games at such a pace,
With Rangers trying to put their name into the history books,
Their record of 10 was squashed by the men in the hoops.
So we travelled to Dunfermilne with a song in our hearts
Were a win would make us Scottish League champs,
With Donnelly’s goal, was it time to celebrate?
But Dunfermilne equalized, another week, we’d have to wait.
The last game of the season, the league decider,
A day of nerves for both Celtic and Rangers,
Which colours of Glasgow would be dancing in the streets?
Which fans of Glasgow would find a quiet retreat?
Down the Gallowgate we strolled confident and proud
Our songs of Celtic sang out loud,
Glasgow’s sky was radiant and bright,
If a rainbow appeared, it’s colours were green & white.
And the pitch was immaculate, that God would admire,
Late working hours saw the grounds men tire,
And onto the pitch, the players made their way,
Writing themselves and the game into Celtic’s history.
St.Johnstone came to Parkhead, trying to break our dream
Until Larsson strolled forward in the hoops of green,
And with ease, in his stride, he struck that Mitre ball
That flew past their keeper into the goal.
Oh, what joy it was to be a Tim
As we sang old familiar battle hymns,
We screamed for goals, a barrel load more,
But it wasn’t until the 2nd half, that once more, we’d score.
Mr. Harold Brattbak came on as a sub,
And secured victory for the Celtic Football Club.
As the Rangers found time to cry and moan,
After a 9-year wait, the league trophy was finally home,
What tears of joy flowed during the jubilation
As the players witnessed the fans in celebration,
And Tommy Boyd lifted the cup as the proud Celtic captain
Not knowing the season had ended for Wim Jansen.
The dark clouds of unrest settled over Parkhead once more
When Jansen exited through the champion’s door,
Speculation ran wild with rumors & whispers,
Who would end up as Jansen’s successor?
Dr.Joe Venglos became the mystery man
When he was paraded to the media in front of the old Celtic stand,
Where did he hail from, the fans would ask,
Did he have the credentials for the Celtic task?
However, he brought to us Lubo, the poet with the ball,
A magician with flare, a mastermind of skill,
And the worship was born to this Czechoslovakian son,
When we demolished the Rangers by a score of 5-1.
But the season wasn’t memorable as we hoped and prayed.
As results weren’t favourable to Celtic’s play,
When the world needed a hero like Jesus or Cuchalinn,
The Celtic fans turned, to bold Henrik Larsson.
New recruits came Parkhead’s way,
Mark Viduka, Riseth and big Johan Mjallby,
Disciples of football to a new promised land?
The question tore at the mind of every Celtic fan.
The fans turned out for the bhoys in green
But a repeat of the previous season became a broken dream,
We looked to Lubo & Larsson for inspiration
As Rangers marched on to be League champions.
A new saga unfolded at Celtic Park,
When an inexperienced man took to the helm at Paradise,
Dalglish & Barnes came as football’s, Laurel & Hardy,
And offered us no glittering prize.  
The season of John Barnes, we try hard to erase
As embarrassment lined the cracks on our face,
The mentality of someone to hire him as coach
Turned out to be a farce, a cruel terrible joke.
Behind the team, we gathered strength,
Players were brought in, to provide more depth,
Berkovic & Petrov came to the fold
And wore in their hearts, the green, white & gold.
But tragedy struck Larsson, when we played in France
That broke the spirit of us Celtic fans,
A challenge by Blanc on Larsson’s leg,
Left our hero with a double leg break.
In mourning, we held our sunken heads
As our season, we felt, was left for dead,
Could Mark Viduka carry hopes?
Could Celtic recover from this terrible loss?
Our days as supporters grew from bad to worse
When our cup hopes were sunk by Inverness
John Barnes’ career came to an end after that game,
As the coach of Celtic, he was to blame.
But success came in the form of the CIS Cup,
As goals in the final, saw the Celts go two up,
Riseth & Johnson brought a promise back to the fans,
While Larsson watched impatiently from Hampden’s new stand.
But the resurrection of Paradise was soon to re-appear
As the disciples of Celtic sat round their pints of beer,
Larsson returned for the last game of the season,
And a son of Kilrea stood on the horizon.
And from Leicester to Glasgow, O’Neill did appear
Standing on the slopes of Parkhead to loud Celtic cheers,
He promised his best for the upcoming season
That saw trophies galore for Celtic & Larsson.
O’Neill came as the messiah to Glasgow’s east end
And chased the embarrassment suffered under john Barnes,
Fans rallied to Parkhead, heaven heard their cries,
Was martin O’Neill the 2nd coming of Christ?
And we marched with O’Neill into Scotland’s football fields
Full of faith, hope and promise,
As O’Neill’s Celtic warriors led the league table,
Against the Rangers would be his biggest test.
On a bright sunny, Sunday afternoon
As the tanoid played some Celtic tunes
Parkhead would witness a miracle or two,
The Celts walked over the Rangers
By a score of 6-2.
As the league play did progress, the CIS Cup was our next test,
When the final was played against Kilmarnock,
Reduced to 10 brave men, through the red card of Sutton,
Larsson stole the show by scoring a hat trick.
O’Neill’s first taste of glory was wrapped in emerald green ribbons
As champagne was drank by the gallon through the night,
As young Healy, Crainey & Smith took pride in a winning Celtic strip,
It was Larsson who was our hero, our shining light.
Every week from Larsson, there was a goal to his name
As chances were supplied by Thompson and Lennon,
And his goal-scoring spree kept the fans, eager and hungry
To bring the championship home once again.
And we kept the faith through every match,
Watched the destruction of Dick Advocaat,
And St.Mirren came to Parkhead for some divine intervention,
But the championship goal was scored by Tommy Johnson.
The Irish Tenors came to the Holy Ground that day
And serenaded the crowd on the field of play,
But it was the words of O’Neill after the 90 minutes,
That made you proud to support the Glasgow Celtic.
And then to Hampden we gladly traveled
To face McLeish & Hibernian in the Scottish Cup Final.
Larsson again brought Celtic home winners,
With his 2 lethal goals & one from McNamara.
So the treble was captured in O’Neill’s first year
That gave us reason to sing, shout & cheer,
And we walked the streets proud in our colours,
Proud as Glasgow Celtic supporters.  
© Daniel McDonagh – April’2004

Lord, Ghod & King

To Henrik Larsson,
Our Lord, Ghod & King,
How your memorable goals
Have made us dance, celebrate & sing,
In the east end of Glasgow
Were we’ve stood for many a year,
Will become empty & hollow
When your time comes to leave.

And for those who have seen him
Play in the hoops of green,
Were he has gave his soul
To our Celtic team,
He’ll no longer be wearing
Celtic’s hallowed number 7,
As his presence will be greatly missed
At Parkhead, next season.
© Daniel McDonagh – Feb’3rd 2004

A Poem for Henrik Larsson

Will we ever again witness
This miraculous phenomenon,
Who graced us with his presence
In Celtic’s famous number seven.

Will the stars in heaven shine?
As the angels sing his song,
A legend in his time,
Is the hero, Henrik Larsson.

He will go down as the world’s 8th wonder
Who wore the famous hoops,
He’s the roar in Celtic’s thunder,
Who will fill his empty boots?

Parkhead has been his heaven
Since he walked through Celtic’s door,
And from the year of ’97,
How we’ve watched proud Larsson score.

Christened as Ghod,
By the passionate Parkhead faithful,
Were his goals have brought victory
In the act of a miracle.

After injury he returned to the game,
The Golden Boot he collected,
And Parkhead would echo his name
When he scored goals for the Celtic.

Three league title he held at Parkhead,
Honours & awards, he’s gathered more,
And when he waves farewell to the faithful,
Will he be parading number four?

His goals we’ll carry within our hearts,
His passion within our souls,
In his last season down at Celtic Park;
His memories are worth a fortune in gold.

His name will be held in high esteem
As we’ll look back at his glory,
Were Henrik Larsson, our hero & legend,
Will be a part of Celtic’s history.
© Daniel McDonagh – Jan’28th 2004

The Last Season Of Ghod - Henrik Larsson

It’s King Henrik, our Ghod,
Who comes through again,
Scoring a hat-trick
Against the Livingstone men,
His last season approaches,
Like a bird who hibernates,
Will he bring home the league
Before he leaves through Parkhead’s gate?

© Daniel McDonagh - Sept'1st 2003

Henrik Larsson - Ghod

Through the gates of Celtic Park,
The fans will gather to see,
A hero to the masses,
A proud wearer of the green.

Goals we have weekly witnessed,
Tears and pain at Seville,
League Championships we have won,
But Larsson, we will miss.

Celtic’s faithful will stand grieving
As the season comes to an end,
When Ghod will depart from Parkhead’s door,
As hero, icon & legend.

Johnstone, Dalglish, DiCanio & Provan
Have all worn the number 7,
But the famous hooped shirt of Celtic,
Will always belong to Henrik Larsson.

© Daniel McDonagh - Aug'13th 2003

The Last Season Of Ghod

It’s the beginning of the end,
For one of Parkhead's sons,
As the the east end of Glasgow
Gears up for a new season.

Flags fly high
Within the Glasgow sky,
As the raindrops won't tarnish,
Where history stands.

Parkhead's ancient voice
Shall cheer on O'Neill & the bhoys,
As they make their entrance
Onto the hallowed pitch.

It will be the appearance of Larsson
That voices will become unison,
As his days in the hoops
Will soon come to an end.

© Daniel McDonagh - July'7th 2003

Henrik Larsson

When Jesus was seven, he wanted a brother
as his sister's where boring and dull,
so he went to his mother, who sat with his father
and brought with him an old lace up ball.

He told them his story that his life was so lonely
that nothing he did was much fun,
he asked for a wish that was top of his list,
that his mother could have another son.

His father was shocked, his mother surprised
as tears of sadness ran from his eyes,
then nine months passed, those days where long,
that a little baby brother was born.

Jesus was happy, but his father said,
"This boy's special, by the dreads on his head,
he'll go through life without a fight
and play one day for the famous green & white."

"He'll place over his heart a special crest,
pull a Celtic jersey over his head,
and be a hero to million souls
who'll praise his name when he scores Celtic's goals."

"And the number 7 will be his number
and he will be Celtic's almighty saviour,
cups & trophies, he'll play his part
and bring them home to Celtic Park."

"He'll set up goals for Hartson and Sutton,
maybe a few for Lambert & Lennon,
he'll save his best, there's no danger,
as we play and slaughter the Glasgow Rangers."

"He'll be a hero in song & story,
a Celtic legend like Jimmy McGrory,
and the green & white hoops that he'll grace
shall restore the men of Celtic's faith."

And Jesus asked his father what his name will be,
this boy, the world, one day want to see,
and his father said as he looked down upon,
the boy he'll call "Henrik Larsson."

© Daniel McDonagh - Feb'21st 2003

What Do You Mean Larsson’s Gone?

Wee Pat O’Donnell woke from a coma
After five months lying in bed,
The doctor’s said he might sleep forever
After taking a hell-of-a-knock to his big baldy head.

He awoke on a Friday to everyone’s surprise
Tears of joy ran from his mother’s eyes,
He was known as joker, who loved a good laugh,
When he said to his brother, “Where’s my Celtic scarf?”

His brother stood in shock as Pat started singing
Songs of Celtic and Henrik Larsson,
He jumped form his bed and into a jig
And asked who Celtic were playing tomorrow at Parkhead.

A thousand questions, his family started asking,
How was his head, how was he feeling
Pat said he was grand, his head was fine,
His throat was parched for a cheap bottle of wine.

His brother gave him news that he celebrated with a cheer,
How the Celtic won the League & Scottish Cup with ease,
He asked his brother if O’Neill was still Celtic’s boss
And how many goals did Larsson put pass Klos.

His brother gave him the scripture to the events of last season,
How we strolled by the Rangers with 5 comfortable wins,
Pat paced his ward belting out songs,
Not knowing his hero, Larsson, was gone.

He then sat on his bed, a broad smile on his face,
His mother held his hand, with calming words, this she said,
“When you go back to Parkhead, do not sit in despair
As you find out Henrik Larsson, is no longer playing there.”

Grief and shock overcame Pat O’Donnell
As he realized he would never again see his idol,
When he heard that Larsson was now playing for Barcelona,
He fell from his bed, onto the floor, into another five month coma
© Daniel McDonagh - Oct’19th 2004