(In memory of the passing of a Hall of Fame Inductee – Willie Coburn)

the steel tube, the barrier

chest height, big people behind me

buzzing in the restless wait

the pitch close enough to smell

the damp air of expectation

close enough to cling on to

the Saints in Europe

SV Hamburg, SV Muirton

we would see legends that night

we’d be in the presence of legends

did we know then?

they’d shape our memories

placing bookmarks

into the fold of scarves

into faded programmes

into dog eared stories

into the ears of our children

not of Hamburg legends but of

Donaldson, Lambie, Coburn …

the first words of an apostle’s tale

you know the rest …

the test to membership

of being a Saintee forever, and now more so

to pause at the end of the words

Donaldson, Lambie and Coburn …

Willie Coburn

we don’t choose legends

they choose us

we do not own the future

it chooses us

we own the past, we shaped and

just sometimes, we realise the pitch

is further away than we remember, the team

is a wee bit lop sided, down to ten

and a legend has passed, down the left

he will live longer than the final whistle

longer than the passions of our quickened days

but for now, he defends the corner

of our past, shaped with a broad smile and a loyal heart

Donaldson, Lambie, Coburn …

Willie Coburn

a legend forever