Cappo
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Fairy Tale of ParkheadIt was Christmas Eve babe
In the East End
A jaikie said to me, won't win another game
And then he sang a song
They'll be no proddies soon
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you.
Got on a lucky one
Cale at eight to one
They beat the Celtic
It was the ref's fault.
So happy Christmas
I love you Rangers
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true
They steal charity jars
They've got rivers of pee
But their stench goes right for you
It's no place me
When they first threw that brick
On a cold New Years Day
We saw all the coppers
Turn their heads away.
You were ugly
You were petty
Tims of Glasgow City
When the rats finished singing
They howled FT Queen
All the Tims they were swinging,
I R A they were singing
They fought on a corner
Stole loot through the night
The boys of the Glasgow Celtic Choir
Were singing "I R A"
And the press was still denying
BJK.
They are bums
They are punks
They are alkkies on junk
Lying there almost dead in a skip in Carfin
They're scumbags, they're maggots
They're cheap lousy faggots
Happy New Year you papists
I pray God it's your last
The boys of the Glasgow Celtic Choir
Were singing "I R A"
And the press were still sweeping
it away.
They should have beat St Mirren
Well so could anyone
They blamed the referee
Not for the first time
Parkhead it was half full
Or was it mothers day
The best fans in the world
Or so the press says.
The boys of the Glasgow Celtic Choir
Were singing "I R A"
And the press was still denying
BJK.
The boys of the Glasgow Celtic Choir
Were singing "I R A"
And the press were still sweeping
it away.
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