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I climbed the walls at Celtic Park,
The stars where a beacon, as the night was dark,
I sat in a seat where the old “Jungle” once was,
And I prayed to the Virgin Mary, that I wouldn’t get caught.
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I closed my eyes and imagined the sound
Of Celtic fans when they packed this ground,
The pitch was a carpet, I’d dare not tread,
For on that grass, legends had played.
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I imagined the players, the goals and the glory,
I remember the history of Celtic’s story,
The European nights, the Old Firm clashes;
As my hands spread the dust of my father’s ashes.