Walking down London Road, the lights shone brightly on a cold damp night
Throngs of people, jostling, talking,laughing, as they made their way to the shrine
Children carried high on fathers shoulders as the locals shout
”Watch yer car Mister”
Queues outside the stadium, inevitably long
The clicking of the turnstiles, loud, as adults pay and those young enough are lifted over
Climbing those steps the lights shone brighter
The smell of wintergreen, hung strong in the air
On the terracing, a man walks past
”Get yer macaroon bars and yer chewing gum”  he shouts
If you’re lucky he may also have a Mars
The Bhoys are warming up as the Jungle chant their names, not just one or two, the whole team
The Television commentator is singled out in the gantry above
”Archie, Archie, get to fuck” is the cry
Humour is flowing as you hear another can being cracked open, not just tea in those days
The smell of urine is strong as another piss tumbles down the steps, nae need for toilets
With the warm up finished, the teams make their entrance
The roar is deafening, the man beside me lights up another as the Celts kick off
The Bhoys go close early on, the crowd sways
I end up moving around 20 feet with the crowd, what a feeling
Our No.7 drifts past a challenge to be crudely brought down
”Aitken’s gonna get ye”, chant the fans
Sure enough within 5 minutes Big Roy is booked, job done
The first half soon draws to a close
Neither goalie having really been tested
The regulars start their half time walk
From one terracing to another
To watch from the end The Bhoys are shooting into
The macaroon man is gone, his supplies exhausted, he may yet return
”Celtic, Celtic” Â is the roar as the second half commences
Doyle, socks at his ankles, hugs the Jungle touchline
”C’mon Johnny, beat that Bastard” shouts a Jungle Jim
Johnny smiles and blesses himself, he is one of our own
Tommy is running the middle, his flame red hair, instantly recognisable
McGarvey, tirelessly working the channels, waiting for a break
It will soon arrive
Danny, Murdo, Tommy, GOAL
Franks diving header leaving their keeper helpless
The Rubber Man celebrates like there’s no tomorrow
It turns out to be the only goal of the night
The stadium soon empties as the fans trudge home, wet but happy
No doubt awaiting their next trip to PARADISE
 Ralphy Bhoy @25051967Lisbon
