Celtic Supporters Club in Norway


Celtic har en lang og stolt sangtradisjon. Her har vi samlet mange av sangene som har vært sunget på Celtic Park opp gjennom årene samt i mang en skotsk og irsk pub. Som kjent er Celtic en fotballklubb med stolte og sterke irske røtter. Dette er noe som gjenspeiles i sangreportoaret der mange irske folkesanger går igjen. Mange av de irske folkesangene strekker seg tilbake til tiden da irene startet sitt frigjøringsoppgjør mot de britiske undertrykkerne. En del av sangene har derfor en politisk undertone.

A Nation Once Again

En sang om å gjenforene Irland til ett rike. Som en "nasjonalsang" å regne for Celts i Irland.

When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen
For Greece and Rome that bravely stood
Three hundred men and three men
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain
And Ireland long a province be
A nation once again

A nation once again
A nation once again
And Ireland long a province be
A nation once again

It whispered through that freedom's ark
That service high and holy
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly
For freedom comes from God's right hand
And needs a godly train
And righteous men must make our land
A nation once again


So as I grew from boy to man
I bent me to the bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding
For thus I hoped some day to aid
Oh can such hope be vain
When my poor country should be made
A nation ance again


A Soldier's Song

Dette er den irske nasjonalsangen, oversatt fra gælisk til engelsk. Ble mye brukt i gamle "the Jungle". Blir nå bare tatt frem ved større anledninger, som f.eks. mot Rangers...

I'll sing you a song a soldiers song
With cheering rousing chorus
As round the blazing fire we throng
The starry heavens o'er us
Impatient for the coming fight
As we await the morning light
Here in the silence of the night
We will chant a soldier's song

Soldiers are we, whose lives are pledged to Ireland
Some have come from the land beyond the waves
Sworn to be free no more our ancient sireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave
Tonight we man the bairnwail
For Erin's cause come woe or weal
Mid cannon's roar and rifle's peal
We will chant a soldier's song

In valleys green or towering crag
Our fathers fought before us
And conquered deep that same old flag
That's proudly flying o'er us
We're children of a fighting race
That never yet have known disgrace
As we march the foe to face
We will chant a soldier's song


Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The long watched day is breaking
The serried ranks of Innisfail
Shall set the tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low
See in the east a silvery glow
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe
So chant a soldier's song.

Boys of the Old Brigade

Dette er en gammel irsk sang som er populær blant Celtic-fansen, og som synges mye både på kamper og på puber. Sangen handler om Påskeopprøret i 1916 som førte til irenes frigjøringskrig mot England, 1919-22. Fergus McCann ønsket å forby sangen på Celtic Park, fordi han var redd den ville skremme vekk potensielle britiske investorer - men fansen gir ikke så lett slipp på sangen... Det er forøvrig første vers m/refrenget som brukes mest.

Oh Father why are you so sad on this bright Easter morn
When Irish men are proud and glad of the land where they were born
Oh son I see in memory's view of far off distant day
When being just a lad like you I joined the IRA.

Where are the lads who stood with me when history was made
Oh gra mo croidh I long to see the Boys of the Old Brigade

From hills and farms the call to arms was heard by one and all
And from the glen came brave young men to answer Ireland's call
‘T was long ago we faced the foe the Old Brigade and me
But by my side they fought and died that Ireland might be free.


And now my boy I've told you why on Easter morn I sigh
For I recall my comrades all of dark old days gone by
I think of men who fought in glen with rifle and grenade
May heaven keep the men who sleep from the ranks of the Old Brigade.


Broad Black Brimmer

En populær pubsang, om en historie som leses best mellom linjene...

There's a uniform still hanging in what's known as father's room
A uniform so simple in its style
It has no braid of gold or silk, no hat with feathered plume
Yet me mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
Just in memory of your father dear she said
And when I put the sam brown on, she was smiling through hear tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on me head

It's just a broad black brimmer
Its ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many's a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's all battle-stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Brown belt with a buckle big and strong
And a hulster that's been empty many's a day
But when men claim Ireland's freedom
The ones they choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA

It was the uniform been worn by me father long ago
When he reached me mother's homestead on the run
It was the uniform me father wore in that little church below
When oul Father Mac, he blessed the pair as one
And after truce and treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest
And when they bore his body down that rugged heather braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his chest


Can you hear?

En artig liten sak som dras i gang når det er stille i Rangerssvingen, også brukt med "Can you see a handsome hun..."

Can you hear the Rangers sing? No-o-o, no-o-o
Can you hear the Rangers sing? No-o-o, no-o-o
Can you hear the Rangers sing? Can you hear a fuckin' thing?

Celtic, Celtic

Celtic, Celtic that's the team for me,
Celtic, Celtic on to victory,
They're the finest team in Scotland, I'm sure you will agree,
We'll never give up till we've won the cup and the Scottish football league.

They come from bonnie Scotland, they come from county Cork,
They come from dear old Donegal and even from New York,
From every street in Glasgow they proudly make their way,
To a place called dear old paradise and this is what they say.


There's Fallon, Young and Gemmell who proudly wear the green,
There's Clark, McNeill and Kennedy the best there's ever been,
Jim Johnstone, Murdoch, Chalmers, John Divers and John Hughes,
And sixty thousand Celtic fans who proudly shout the news.


Celtic Symphony

It was far across the sea when the devil got a hold of me
he wouldn't set me free so he kept me soul for ransom
na na na na na etc
I'm a sailor man from glasgow town i've roamed the world around and round
he's the meanest thing that i have found in all me days of wandering
na na na na na etc

Refreng: Here we go again we're on the road again
We're on the road again we're on the way to paradise
We love the jungle deep. that's where the lion sleeps
For then those evil eyes they have no place in paradise

Graffiti on the wall just as the sun was going down
I see graffiti on the wall - of the celts! of the celts!
Graffiti on the wall it says we're magic we're magic
Graffiti on the wall.............................

it says oh ah up the ra, say ooh ah up the ra
it says oh ah up the ra, say ooh ah up the ra
it says oh ah up the ra, say ooh ah up the ra
it says oh ah up the ra, say ooh ah up the ra

We went thru each jungle deep for the paradise that we did seek
Twas no trip for the weak we're waltzing with the natives
na na na na na etc
Around in circles everyway he turned to me and he did say
I think you're leading me astray i want your soul me boyo
Na na na na na etc

ooh ah up the ra

The Fields of Athenry

Den mest brukte sangen ved siden av Hail! Hail! En utrolig stemningsfull sang, som bare må oppleves når over 60.000 struper stemmer i!
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl callin'
Michael they have taken you away
For you stole Trevelyan's corn
So the young might see the morn'
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We'd dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man callin'
Nothing matters Mary when you're free
Against the famine and the crown
I rebelled, they cut me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity


By a lonely harbour wall
She watched the last star fallin'
As the prison ship sailed out against the sky
For she'll live in hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry


Four Leaf Clover
With a four leaf clover on my breast,
And the green and white upon my chest,
It's such a joy for us to see,
For they play football the Celtic way.

It's been ten years, long time indeed,
We stood with pride and we took defeat,
Our beloved team, our ancient ground,
Has been rebuilt, a club reborn.


McCann he rode the winds of change,
And the things he brought will long remain,
A phoenix rising, a house of steel,
And 60,000 Celtic dreams.


The work is done and the stage is set,
The Celtic dream can now be met,
In a sea of dreams, we're here today,
Lets sit and watch the Champions play.
Hail! Hail!

Dette er den mest brukte og best kjente Celtic-sangen, og er en nødvendighet å kunne for alle Celts

Hail! Hail! The Celts are here
What the hell do we care, what the hell do we care

Hail! Hail! The Celts are here
What the hell do we care now

For it's a grand old team to play for
And it's a grand old team to see
And if you know your history
Oh it's enough to make your heart go-o-oh

We don't care what the animals say
What the hell do we care

For we only know
That there's goin' to be a show
And the Glasgow Celtic will be there!!!

Oh Hampden in the Sun

Dette er en annen sang om den berømmelige 7-1 seieren over the Huns, høsten 1957. Sangen er basert på melodien til Harry Belafontes "Oh Island In The Sun", som var en stor slager i nettopp 1957.

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.

Joe McDonnell

Joe McDonnell var en av 10 republikanske fanger som døde under sultestreiken i Long Kesh fangeleir i 1981.
Oh me name is Joe McDonnell from Belfast town I came,
That city I will never see again,
For in the town of Belfast I spent many happy days,
I loved the town in oh so many ways
For it's there I spent my childhood,
And I found for me a wife,
I then set out to make for her a life.
Oh but all my young ambitions met with bitterness and hate,
I found myself inside a prison gate.
And you dare to call me a terrorist,while you look down your guns,
When I think of all the deeds that you have done.
You have plundered many nations,divided many lands,
You have terrorised our people,you ruled with your iron hand,
And you brought this reign of terror to my land.
Through those many months internment in the Maidstone and the Kesh
I thought about my land throughout those days,
Why my country was divided ,why I was now in jail,
Imprisoned without crime or without trial,
And although I love my country I am not a bitter man,
I've seen cruelty and injustice at first hand.
Then one cold and fateful morning I shook bold freedoms hand,
For right or wrong I tried to free my land.


Then one cold October's morning trapped in a lion's den
I found myself in prison once again,
I was committed to the H-Blocks for fourteen years or more,
On the blanket the conditions they were poor.
Then a hungerstrike we did commence for the dignity of man,
And it seemed to me that no-one gave a damn.
Oh but now I am a saddened man I have watched my comrades die,
If only people cared or wondered why.


Oh may God shine on you Bobby Sands for the courage you have shown,
May your glory and your name be widely known,
Then young Francis Hughes and Ray McCreesh who died unselfishly,
And Patsy O Hara and the next in line is me,
And those who lie behind me may your courage be the same,
And I pray to God my life is not in vain,
Oh but sad and bitter was the year of 1981,
When they think that we have lost and nothing won.

The John Thomson Song

Dette er sangen om det store keepertalentet Johnny Thomson, som døde av et spark i hodet, i en kamp mot Rangers i 1931

I took a trip to Parkhead,
To that famous Paradise,
And as the Bhoys made their appearance,
Sure the tears came to my eyes.
A familiar face was missing,
From the green and white brigade,
They told me Johnny Thomson,
Was lying in his grave

Twas 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,
Oh but what a price he paid.

The ball rolled to Sam English,
John ran out and dived,
The ball rolled on; John lay still,
For his club this hero died.

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

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

Hey up Glasgow Celtic,
Stand up and play your game,
Between your posts there stands a ghost,
Johnny Thomson is his name.

Let the People Sing

Denne populære sangen av "Wolfe Tones" handler om hvordan sangen og musikken hjalp til med å holde motet oppe hos det irske folk, da det så som mørkest ut i deres kamp for rettferd. I Celtic-kretser har sangen fått en symbolsk betydning, med budskap til Celtic-ledelsen om å la folket (fansen) få synge sine sanger - uavhengig av hva kommersielle krefter måtte mene om dem.
For those who are in love
There's a song that's warm and tender.
For those who are oppressed
In song you can protest.
So liberate your minds
And give your soul expression.
Open up your hearts,
I'll sing for you this song.
Let the people sing their stories and their songs
And the music of their native land
Their lullabies and battlecries and songs of hope and joy
So join us hand in hand
All across this ancient land
Throughout the test of time
It was music that kept their spirits free
Those songs of yours and of mine
It was back in ancient times,
The bard would tell his stories
Of the heroes, of the villain,
Of the chieftains in the glen.
Through Elizabethian time
And Cromwellian war and fury
Put our pipers to the sword,
Killed our harpers and our bards.
Ireland, land of song,
Your music lives forever
In its valleys, in its mountains,
In its hills and in its glens.
Our music did survive
Through famine and oppression.
To the generations gone,
I'll sing for you this song.
On the One Road
Nok en sang om ønsket om å gjenforene Irland til ett rike...
We're on the one road
Sharing the one load
We're on the road to who knows where
We're on the one road it may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares
North men, South men, comrades all
Dublin, Belfast, Cork and Donegal
We're on the one road swinging along
Singing 'The Soldiers Song'
Though we've had our troubles now and then
Now it's time to make them up again
Sure aren't we all Irish anyhow
Now is the time to step together now
Tinker, tailor every mother's son
Butcher, baker, shouldering his gun
Rich man, poor man every man in line
All together just like 'Auld Lang Syne'
Night is darkness just before the dawn
From dissention Ireland is reborn
Soon we'll all united Irishmen
Make our land 'A Nation Once Again'
Over and Over
En sang om lojalitet og kjærligheten til Celtic og om det å leve for klubben
Over and over, we will follow you,
Over and over, we will see you through,
We are Celtic supporters, faithful through and through,
and over and over, we will follow you.
If you go to Germany, you will see us there,
France or Spain its all the same,
We'll go anywhere,
We'll be there to cheer you,
as you travel round,
you can take us anywhere, we won't let you down.
If you go to Lisbon, we'll go once again,
In Zaire you'll find us there calling out your name,
when you need supporting, you will always know,
we'll be right there with you, everywhere you go.
Sean South
En sang om Irland's væpnede kamp mot britene i 1950-årene, representert ved martyren Sean South
It was on a frosty New Year's Eve as the shades of night came down
A lorry load of volunteers approached a border town
There were men from Dublin and from Cork, Fermanagh and Tyrone
And their leader was a Limerick man, Sean South of Gerryowen
And as they moved along the street up to the barrack door
They scorned the danger they might meet, their fate that lay in store
They were fighting for Old Ireland, to claim their very own
And the foremost of that gallant band, Sean South of Gerryowen
But a sergeant foiled their daring plan, he spied them from the door
The sten guns and the rifles too, a hail of death did pour
And when the dark of night was passed, two men lay cold as stone
There was one from near the border and one from Gerryowen
No more he'll hear the seagulls cry, or mourning Shannon's tide
For he fell beneath the morning sky, brave Hanlin by his side
They have gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett, Pearce and Tone
A martyr for Old Ireland, Sean South of Gerryowen

Seven - One

En lystig sang om den største seier noen sinne i en britisk cupfinale. Som ferske ligamestre var Rangers skyhøye favoritter før kampen. Hvis du lurer på hvorfor murvegger og plankegjerder i Glasgow er prydet med grafittien "7-1", vet du nå hvorfor.
On the classic slopes of Hampden
In October fifty-seven
Stood the mighty Glasgow Rangers
And another great eleven,
One hundred thousand voices singing
Follow follow was there theme
While a gallant band of Faithful
Sang the wearin' o' the green.
Battle joined and battle favoured
Battle favoured only one
And as each glory goal was added
Seven times this song was sung
Another goal for Glasgow Celtic
Another victory for the cause
Another reason to be giving
Another cheer just for the Bhoys
For if I live to be a hundred
I'll never ever have so fun
As the day that Glasgow Celtic
Beat the Rangers seven - one.
Now from the lakes of Old Killarney
To the lands of County Cork
From the bridge at Sydney Harbour
To old Broadway of New York
Aye they'll sing of Celtic's glory
Aye they'll tell it old and young
Of the day that Glasgow Celtic
Beat the Rangers seven - one.
This Land is Your Land
En irsk versjon av Woody Guthries kjente amerikanske folkesang.
This land is your land, this land is my land
From the northern highlands to the western islands
From the hills of Kerry to the streets of (Free) Derry
This land was made for you and me

As I was walking by the Shannon water
Hand in hand with my little daughter
The church bells ringing, and the children singing
This land was made for you and me


So I walked her home by the old church steeple
Proud of my country, proud of my people
Of the men who tried there, of the men who died there singing
This land is made for you and me

Then I climbed a mountain, saw the crystal fountain
And heard a great roar from the rocky sea shore
Her eyes were gleaming, she cried oh-o Daddy
This land was made for you and me

The Wild Rover

Kort og godt en glimrende drikkevise fra Irland.
I've been a wild rover for many the year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
And now I'm returning with gold in great store,
And I never will play the wild rover no more.
And it's no nay never no nay never no more
Will I play the wild rover no never no more.
I went to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent
I asked her for credit, she answered me 'nay
such a custom like yours I could have any day'.
I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight
She said 'I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke sure twere only in jest'.
I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And if they caress me as oft times before
Sure I never will play the wild rover no more

Willie Maley

Sangen er laget av det populære Glasgow-bandet "Charlie & The Bhoys", på melodien til den gamle '70-tallsslageren Matchstalk Men & Matchstalk Cats And Dogs av "Brian & Michael"
Willie Maley was his name, he brought some great names to the game
When he was the boss at Celtic Park
Taught them how to play football, he made the greatest of them all
Gallacher and Quinn have left their mark
And they gave us James McGrory and Paul McStay
They gave us Johnstone, Tully, Murdoch, Auld and Hay
Most of the football greats have passed through Parkhead's gates
All to play football the Glasgow Celtic way
'38 there was a show, Glasgow was the place to go
A model of the tiara was football prize
England four of their best, they didn't meet with much success
'cos the trophy ended up in Paradise
Now coronation time was here, '53 that was the year
Another four from England met their doom
They said we'll have to try again, but like before it was in vain
Because the cup is in the Parkhead trophy room
Oh 14 years had gone and so, to Portugal we had to go
To play a team that Italy adore
Celtic went in to attack, they won the big cup and they brought it back
It's the first time it had been on British shore
Oh 21 years to that day, fine as our Centenary
And we're among the honoured ones again
Six million pounds the Huns did spend, but Souness found it was in vain
becuase the Celtic are the champion again
Now in 1995, it feels just good to be alive
And we're allowed to celebrate again
The fans all cry out for Pierre, he rises up into the air
And brings the Scottish Cup to Paradise

You'll never walk alone

En av de flotteste ballader som kan høres på et fotballstadion. Sangen stammer opprinnelig fra den amerikanske musikalen "Carousel", fra 1945. Ble "adoptert" av Celtic-fansen trolig på slutten av '50-tallet. Liverpool-fansen, som også bruker denne sangen, tok den i bruk på '60-tallet
When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone
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