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Marie Stuart

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 They celebrated, commiserated in Celtic style,
In the echo’s of Hampden no more than a mile.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The last time I saw the Marie Stuart I was sad,
Only killing time a dad and his lad.
There is nothing quite like derelict places,
Where once they were filled with stories and faces.
Perhaps it is once more adored,
Plastered and painted and lovingly restored.
We walked by not knowing what we had seen,
In this boarded up building the big man had been.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Inside the Marie Stuart in the palm of his hand,
The green half of Glasgow was in his command.
There he assembled his green and white team,
He held all the promise of a green and white dream.
They came into the Marie Stuart through the entrance hall,
When the final whistle blew in a game of football.
Legends who live on in Celtic folk law,
Disembarked from their team coach and walked through that door.
They celebrated, commiserated in Celtic style,
In the echo’s of Hampden no more than a mile.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 They watched as the big man sang his song,
After one or two drinks they would all sing along.
We walked by not knowing what we had seen,
If I knew I would have listened for the voice of Jock Stein.

1

Notes

Before the Scotland v Italy game in 2005 my son and I had time to spare to walk around the surrounding area of Hampden Park. I took a photograph of the Marie Stuart because of family names. Later I found that it was owned by a Celtic supporter and friend of Jock Stein.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/marie-stuart/