He was fearless … fiery … feisty,
never known to shirk a ruck;
wore his heart upon his sleeve
like any fan –
swapped the Jungle
for the tunnel,
as wee Doylie rode his luck
to play for Celtic,
live the dream – a Celtic Man!
Just like “Jinky”, his great hero,
he was prone to lose the plot;
had his share of early baths,
as redheads can –
but his heart beat
to the rhythm
of the code his father taught:
he lived for Celtic –
lived and died a Celtic Man!
When he got his marching orders
that day “Ten Men Won the League”,
he was gutted,
thought he’d flushed it
down the pan.
John Doyle breathed and bled the Celts
in every thought, hope, word and deed –
so, it was fitting
that he died a Celtic Man!
Copyright © Johnbhoy, 25thMay1967 -thanks for permission to use on CQN today.
