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HAMPDEN PARK, BAGPIPES, DRUMS AND LEGENDS ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett


At Hampden Park as the bagpipes play,
The drums did beat this late afternoon
On a bright September day.

The atmosphere was exciting,
Like soldiers armed and ready for fighting.
I looked down on the pitch so green,

Where heroes and legends have been.
Dalglish, Docherty and Law,
England and proud Bobby Moore.
Greig and Shankly have rolled up their sleeves,
Jock Stein, Alf Ramsey, Pele and Greaves.

The floodlights have shone in the Glasgow sky,
The Scots have been led by the brave Dave Mackay.
Puskus and Best have excited,
Jimmy Johnstone the crowd he has ignited.
Keegan and Souness have battled,
Styles and Bremner have tackled.
Matthews and Finney have elegantly graced,
Billy Liddell, Bert Williams has faced.
Archie Gemmill whose goal brought back pride,
To the boys who wore blue by his side.

Looking down on the turf I can still see them all,
Maradona, McGrain and wee Alan Ball.
Celtic and Rangers many times have played on,
Like the legends and heroes long gone.
John Thomson, Gordon Banks and the Charlton brothers,
Billy Wright, Jim Baxter and so many others,
That played the passionate game,
We await the new era of another great name.

As the Tartan Army sang loud
I stood with my son and felt proud,
The Flower of Scotland did play
All around on this September day.



Hampden Park, Bagpipes, Drums and Legends © Robbie Kennedy Bennett
www.rkbpoetry.co.uk


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When observing this photograph I had taken at Hampden Park, I noticed the deepest blue St Andrews Saltire flag furthest right, was from The Kingdom of Fife.

I Cheered For My Dad, © Robbie Kennedy Bennett








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ON THE DAY OF ALL DAYS SCOTLAND COULD NOT BE BEAT ©

Scotland 18 England 12
25 February 2006


Tartan kilts swirled as they played,
The drums beat loud and the pipers' parade.
We stood as we watched; a few yards did they pass,
Their tune through the tunnel when leaving the grass.
Did echo around ten times of the sound,
Stimulating our hearts as they marched from the ground.

The February wind was bleak,
On the day of all days no man could be weak.
The Calcutta Cup at Murrayfield ground,
St George and St Andrew flew all around.
Out of the closet old sweaters were worn,
Some were well soiled, faded and torn.

English or Scot, some stood together,
Soon forgetting the February weather.
Who will be first to score and draw blood?
Ready to battle, they all understood.

It was like a military order,
Pride was at stake each side of the border.

Over the floodlit stand was Edinburgh Castle and Arthur's Seat.
Then battle commenced, a Scottish or English defeat.

The boys in blue would not surrender and die,
The Scots' roared on and the Saltire flags flew high.
When a white shirt got passed a blue brought him to ground,
The Scots' were so vocal they cheered all around.

On the day of all days Scotland could not be beat,
On the day of all days they wouldn't accept an English defeat.
The February wind no longer mattered,
Thousands of souls were shell shocked and shattered.

And tartan kilts swirled and they swayed,
After a tough game of rugby was played.


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ON THE DAY OF ALL DAYS SCOTLAND COULD NOT BE BEAT © Robbie Kennedy Bennett
www.rkbpoetry.co.uk

© Poetic Writing of Robbie Kennedy Bennett | created at www.mrsite.com