THE FOUR HORSEMEN BANNER
A tribute to The Green Brigade Banner “The Four Horsemen” by Pensionerbhoy
It just has to be that deep disappointment conceives the inexplicable. That alone can be the sole reason for my thoughts drifting from the realms of depression to the regions of antipathy. Here this morning, I find my mind drawn irresistibly to writing about a particular Green Brigade banner and in doing so, resurrecting the death-rattle of a football club long buried. I apologise to those who, I know full well, will feel they have had enough of the interminable saga. The idea was actually conceived, not by a desire to restart a debate that has been exhausted and then strangled interminably, but by a search last evening for photographs of Celtic games during which I came across one showing the famous, or infamous, “Four Horsemen” banner for which I retain an inordinate admiration. For a good part of the night I could not sleep as my imagination was in overload with the various images and bombarded by words and phrases describing its extraordinary artistry. So, rather than letting sleeping dogs lie buried, the evil dead have lured me into paying tribute to what must be regarded as one of the great banner productions of all time. I am no poet but like so many other interests, old age frees one to dabble in the incapable without recourse. Fortunately the subject is now of no consequence so some of you may find my efforts not simply futile but also puerile. I hope, however, that those who read my short ditty, will graciously overlook my poetic shortcomings as well as the outdated subject matter and instead, enjoy its sentiments. At best, you may regard it as a literary masterpiece up there with the works of the bard or, at worst, it may prove a welcome distraction from recent score-lines.
I SAW FOUR HORSEMEN
I saw four horses in the sky
Come raging from the angry clouds
With riders clothed in sombre shrouds
And death emblazoned on their eyes.
The leader furious, hair fiery red,
Determination on his face,
No sign of pity, no show of grace,
No sympathy for them, he said.
The second figure on his mount
Has no intent to let relax
Those owing him his long due tax.
For he will whip them to account.
A third dark shape, bare and bone,
Glares from underneath his hood
At the brazenness of the bankrupt brood,
In death’s last groan yet hearts of stone.
The final rider masks his face
With double deals and dark intrigue.
With parcelled rogues he was in league,
Then disappeared without a trace.
And so the horses and their men
Snorting and snarling charge along
To make full sure the doomed are gone,
Determined they will meet their end.
Well, the end that was nigh and predicted by the banner has been and gone. They are dead. Fin! (I love French cinema :))