ONCE upon a time there was a cup-tie so poetically played and won with such lethal elegance that the victorious supporters found themselves singing a song they did not know.

From their throats were forced spontaneous words. They were not the most lyrical. For the middle lines of the chorus were improvised, a happy tribal chant. Dum, dum-dum, dum, dum, dee, dum-dum was how it went to reword an old song.

Out of nowhere, Paisley fans were ad-libbing their tune of triumph to the notes of When the Saints Go Marchin' In.

It was the semi-final at Hampden of the 1959 Scottish Cup and St Mirren were 3-0 up at half-time, going on to add one more.

Previously, soprano voices around the boys' enclosure had piped up the song. Suddenly, there was a full-throated choir.

Dyers from the thread mills, gnarled and unsentimental craftsmen, may have started the singing. Their throats were as dry as their cheeks were wet.

Here is the sonnet of the team-sheet: Walker; Lapsley and Wilson; Neilson, McGugan, and Leishman; Rodger, Bryceland, Baker, Gemmell, and Miller.

Alistair Miller scored two of the four. Gerry Baker, of the grinning head-down, darting runs, had the third. With all his swank and style, Tommy Bryceland made abundantly sure with the last goal. These are only the bare match facts.

Tear-filled imagination has taken over the game. With every year since, its brilliance becomes brighter.

I swear that for one of the goals each of the five forwards played the ball in the air. Probably, the movement started with a robust tackle and a delicate pass by Jackie Neilson. It often did. Maybe it wasn't like that at the time. It is now.

Such documentary evidence as survives is blurry and sparse. Imagination is allowed to fill the gaps. Television's splinterish obsession with off-side decisions and hand-balls did not exist then to darken dreams.

With Davie Lapsley as captain and the shy, long-suffering, magical Tommy Gemmell on the park any improbable glory is possible. It was the best club game of importance any Scottish team has played (I insist).

Saints space their cup victories sparingly: 1959 was their middle one of three. They went on to beat Aberdeen 3-1 in the final

Really, though, triumph was ordained by the semi. Celtic were the losers then.

It is sinful to gloat. After 40 years it is absurd. Ya beauty! it remains.