The final whistle was the fuse of joy;
That exploded all over the dear green place.
The bench launched like a rocket,
Onto the park they went at pace.
Jock, alone with his thoughts,
Stared immortality in the face.
Jock just looked it in the eye,
And locked it in an eternal embrace.
Simpson, Craig, Gemmell
Murdoch, McNeill, Clark
Johnstone, Wallace, Chalmers
Auld and Lennox,
Were the fuse spark.
Their names will never be diminished
by the sands of time.
They changed Celtic forever.
The day the hoops were worn.
That afternoon in Lisbon,
Where a wondrous beauty was born.