From Brakes to Brigades by J.J. Whelan

From Lanark to Leith, they’d ride through the dawn, Songs of rebellion loud and drawn.

Whisky breath, working-class pride, No matter the weather, they’d never hide.

Brake Clubs rolled with purpose and fire, Fuelled by football and great desire.

A love for Celtic, born of the street, Of famine ships and defiant feet.

In the terraces, it grew like a flame, With each generation raising the game.

Then came the boys with a louder beat.The Green Brigade stand on their feet.

Not just for show, but for fight and cause, Banners flying without pause.

Against injustice, they made their stand, Political flags in a Unionist land.

They brought the colour, the tifos bold,Stories in fabric, histories told.

Pyro in the night, defiance in chants,Voices sharp like Glasgow’s stance.

From brakes to brigades, the torch passed down, Each match a march through the East End of town.

As Celtic take to the field,
The ultras roar will never yield.

J. J. Whelan