[video=youtube;P33qo7YBf34]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P33qo7YBf34[/video] [video=youtube;fCP3EuD_8-4]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCP3EuD_8-4[/video] [video=youtube;VK1KdQ9IFbw]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VK1KdQ9IFbw[/video]
To expect too much is to have a sentimental view of life and this is a softness that ends in bitterness.
Let me tell you the tale of a Sunday in May, We were two points behind Celtic with one game to play. The tims had been crowing "the title's in the bag, We've won the league again, fly the flag, fly the flag." They would be taught a lesson they'll always remember, Don't write off the Rangers, we never surrender. We descended on Leith on the 22nd of May, The waiting was over, it was judgement day. With hope in our hearts and trannies in our hands, We packed ourselves into the Easter Road stand. The ref blew the whistle, the action began, A wave of excitement swept over the fans. But half an hour in came the news we were dreading, Sutton had scored, for 2nd place we were heading. Soon half-time arrived and the score remained zero, We looked to the heavens and prayed for a hero. The teams re-emerged and the second half started, Not one of our loyal fans had departed. Then all of a sudden - a promising break, Buffel to Novo who made no mistake. 1-0 to Rangers, we were off the mark, Our attentions now turned to events at Fir Park. Celtic were coasting as the minutes ticked by, They sang Championees and the Fields of Athenry. But you and I know there was a sting in the tail, For theirs is a club which is destined to fail. Enter Scott McDonald with an overhead kick, Douglas is nowhere and Timmy is sick. Their fans were despondent and looked to the skies, But there was no solace there for their tear-stained eyes. For a helicopter was approaching the ground, But it sure wasn't landing, it was turning around. Over on the touchline, O'Neill lost the plot, Astonishingly brilliant, I think fu*king not! Soon word reached Leith and the Rangers fans roared, The players on the pitch knew that Motherwell had scored. They kept possession, we awaited more news, Tension gripped all of the red, white & blues. Then two minutes later - a heart-warming sound, Another eruption at our end of the ground. 2-1 to Motherwell and it had to be him, McDonald again, not bad for a Tim. The final whistle sounded and the copter arrived, This time it was landing with the SPL prize. Strangers hugged strangers up and down the land, As the words KEEP BELIEVING appeared in the stand The singing began - "Cheer up Marty, Come over to our place, we're having a party." And over at Ibrox, though minutes had passed, A sea of red, white & blue had amassed. Hundreds of bears lined Edmiston Drive, The team bus arrived and the place came alive. The party continued well into the night, A reward for a season of courage and fight. When you're finding it hard to muster belief, Think back to the day when the sun shone on Leith. 'Cos like the moon landings and JFK, We'll always remember that Sunday in May. The odds were against us but we won the race, Let the others come after us, we welcome the chase.
I was en-route to the Erskine Bridge when the news broke. I did a hauny on the M8 once Skippy scored and sped along to Ibrox, passing countless taigs heading to the bridge to end their pitiful existence.
You can't beat the version with the Lenny Kravitz soundtrack. [video=youtube;4p1zgov_-a8]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=4p1zgov_-a8[/video]
I was sunbathing at the pool at the Santa Lucia Hotel in Palma Nova on the morning of the game - hadn't slept a wink from the night before for thinking about it. One of those wee plane's flew overhead with a big sign saying " Papa Joes " on it with big Union jacks either side of it. I turned to auld torn face and said. "Look, look up there, that's a sign " "Whit's a sign" "The Union Jacks, the Gers are gonnae dae it " "Aye, very good, lie doon 'n stoap gi'en me a shown up" Half an hour later another wee plane flew past and this time the banner said " BCM ".....the club that Geri Spice used to dance in. I flew up like a madman aff ma sunbed and shouted, "IT'S A FUCKIN SIGN ! " "Whit you oan aboot noo, lie doon a telt yae" " Naw, dae yae no get it ?" "Get whit?" "BCM" ""Aye, whit aboot it?" " B C FUCKIN' M !!!!.......Beat Celtic Motherwell ".............. And they did. THE END.
