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Let's be Frank

Young Frankie walked, one Saturday morn

Through Glasgow, Frankie’s hame

Nowt better to do, just wasting time

Wallet not even holding a dime

No chance of watching the Hoops today

Hoy! Frankie! A voice did shoot

Have ya got summit planned?

Or ya seeing Noot

We need another man

Save us if ya can

I suppose that i’ll be doin noot

I haven't even got Ma boots

That's nowt I have a thousand here

Go on man play, and I'll get ya a beer

If ya make it two…

then I will play for you

For Johnstone Burgh, one season through

He should them all that he could do

While sweeping up the streets right through

And then St Mirren came

Hoy Frankie! Sign ya name

Forty eight goals, from central midfield

Over five years, not a bad yield

Then the Sassenachs came to town

Throwing all their money around

Like bubbles in the air

Striking as a Hammer, led to glee

Forty six goals the fans did see

From Frankie and the midget Cottee

We need more bubbles please

Hey mister! Where's the birds?

Then in the autumn of ‘87

Frankie got a call, that was greater than heaven

Rekindling the dreams, when he was a boy

No more in Londons streets he would roam

To Paradise, He was going home

Hail! Hail! The Celts are here!

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