Songs About Celtic

THE CORONATION CUP

Said Lizzie to Phillip as they sat down to dine,
I've just had a note from an old friend of mine,
His name is 'Big Geordie' he's loyal and true,
And his dirty big nose is a light shade of blue.

He says that the Rangers are right on their game,
And ask for a trophy to add to their fame,
I'll send up a cup that the Rangers can win,
Said Phillip to Liz watch the Celts don't step in.

Said Lizzie to Phillip they don't stand a chance,
I'll send up my Gunners to lead them a dance,
With Celtic defeated the way will be clear,
A cup for the Rangers in my crowning year.

But alas for their hopes for the loyal true blues,
The Celts beat the Gunners and Manchester too,
Beat Hibs in the final and oh what a scene,
Sure Hampden was covered in banners of green.

Said Lizzie to Phillip when she heard the grim news,
A blow has been struck at our loyal true blues,
Oh tell me dear Phillip and you ought to know,
How to keep Glasgow Celtic defeated below.

Said Phillip to Lizzie there's only one way,
I've known of their secret for many a day,
To keep the Celts down you will have to deport,
The whole Fenian army that gives them support.

HAMPDEN IN THE SUN

Oh Hampden in the sun,
Celtic 7 Rangers 1,
That was the score when it came time up,
The Timalloys had won the cup.

I see Tully running down the line,
He slips the ball past Valentine,
It's nodded down by 'Teazy Weazy',
And Sammy Wilson makes it look so easy.

I see Mochan beating Shearer,
The League Cup is coming nearer,
He slams in an impossible shot,
The Rangers team has had their lot.

Over comes a very high ball,
Up goes McPhail above them all,
The ball and Billy's head have met,
A lovely sight the ball is in the net.

Young Sam Wilson has them rocked,
But unluckily his shot was blocked,
Then big Bill with a lovely lob,
Makes it look such an easy job.

Now here is Mochan on the ball,
He runs around poor Ian McColl
Wee George Niven takes a daring dive,
But Smiler Mochan makes it number five.

Down the middle runs Billy McPhail,
With John Valentine on his tail,
With a shot along the ground,
The cup's at Parkhead safe and sound.

Here comes Fernie, cool and slick,
He ambles up to take the kick,
He hits it hard and low past Niven,
The Tims are in their Seventh Heaven.

THE JOHN THOMSON SONG

A young lad named John Thomson,
From the west of Fife he came,
To play for Glasgow Celtic,
And to build himself a name.

On the fifth day of September,
Against the Rangers club he played,
From defeat he saved the Celtic,
Ah but what a price he paid.

The ball rolled from the centre,
Young John ran out and dived,
The ball rolled by; young John lay still,
For his club this hero died.

I took a trip to Parkhead,
To the dear old Paradise,
And as the players came out,
Sure the tears fell from my eyes.

For a famous face was missing,
From the green and white brigade,
And they told me Johnny Thomson,
His last game he had played.

Farewell my darling Johnny,
Prince of players we must part,
No more we'll stand and cheer you,
On the slopes of Celtic Park.

Now the fans they all are silent,
As they travel near and far,
No more they'll cheer John Thomson,
Our bright and shining star.

So come all you Glasgow Celtic,
Stand up and play the game,
For between your posts there stands a ghost,
Johnny Thomson is his name