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Born and bred a Celtic man
Raised on the Bhoys by a Germiston man
My father took me to see the Celts, in the days of old Parkhead.
In the Jungle we proudly stood,
Cheering Jinky and Harry Hood,
And he would throw me up into the air, every time the Celtic scored.
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On the Croy supporters bus
That stopped to pick up a few of us
We would leave Condorrat for Celtic Park, with a rousing cheer.
Down the motorway we sped,
Down through Denistoun to Parkhead,
We made sure that our thirst was fed, with our cider and our beer.
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Travelling up the Gallowgate
Meeting with a good few mates,
We find ourselves walking through, the doorway of Baird’s Bar.
Where the music is loud and proud,
Great old songs from the Celtic crowd,
And we will stand and gather in lounge, and have ourselves a jar.
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Walking up to Celtic Park
Wearing our Hoops and Celtic scarves,
We will sing a song for all to sing, as we head to Paradise.
Where the football played on the pitch,
By men who wore a Celtic strip,
Has seen legends born and heroes praised, under Parkhead’s sky.
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Celebrate with pride and joy
With the Glasgow Irish Bhoys
When the Celtic score a goal, at the Holy Ground.
For heaven can loudly hear
Parkhead’s songs and Parkhead’s cheer,
And we wake the dead from a peaceful sleep, with the Celtic sound.
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Standing on Kerrydale Street
Were once walked the Lisbon Lions team,
The Brother Walfrid statue reminds us, of his vision and his dream.
That no child should go hungry,
Charity shall aid poor families,
And a football team shall proudly play, wearing Ireland’s green.