Last week in the comment pages of this newspaper a fair and understandable amount of optimism was gleaned from the fact that a couple of hundred residents of the red, white and blue streets of Belfast's Sandy Row - that's the one adjacent to the alleged Golden Mile - travelled to Sligo for St Patrick's Day and enjoyed themselves.

It was stressed that this was only anecdotal evidence, but the hope was clear - that it might be a sign that the traditional unionist populace might not be quite so hung up about decommissioning as some of unionism's political leaders. Events at the Ulster Unionist Council a.g.m. in the King's Hall on Saturday morning have rather altered the horizon. St Patrick's Day feels like a long time ago.

Pessimism has returned and to be at Ibrox yesterday was to see why there are those who think it will be a longer time leaving. Once again this is purely anecdotal, but to be at the sporting occasion which symbolises the divided society of Northern Ireland is to have the faintest flicker of optimism extinguished by a tidal wave of dirty water.

Optimists could counter that to expose the senses to Glasgow on Old Firm weekend is to invite a battering. This, after all, is sectarianism's tundra land. Frozen, these views are beyond global warming, never mind a wee bit of cross-border co-operation. Look at Martin Smyth.

As was shown on Saturday morning, though, the Reverend Martin is more mainstream than many people want to acknowledge. Similarly, the Old Firm is no fringe festival but a living, thriving example of a split society. Take our old friend The Fields of Athenry, for example. A sentimental, lilting, harmless Irish ballad? Not here. In Glasgow TFOA is a frontline song in Celtic fans' undisguised republican agenda.

It was not meant to be according to Pete St John, the man who wrote it back in 1977 - that's not 1877 or 1777 by the way. Yes, the song is about the Famine and, yes, it is hardly a hymn to Anglo-Ireland, but St John cannot have expected it to snare the heart of Cellic Fitba' Clubb, as they say in Glasgow, with such a grip. Yet it has, and it was sung again with gusto by the massed green hordes before Celtic's mauling yesterday.

However a funny thing happens when Celtic fans sing TFOA at an Old Firm game. Rangers fans sing it back. What, Rangers fans showing an understanding of the sensitivity of the Famine? No. Rangers fans have their own words.

Spokesmen for Rangers fans dispute the origin of the original tune, if not St John's lyrics. They claim it is as old as the Mournes and assert their right to supply their own words. This they have done and, if so inclined, you can buy a copy of "A Father's Advice" from one of the many stalls outside Ibrox selling loyalist memorabilia. They looked to be doing a good trade too yesterday, peddling T-shirts whose advice on Protestant-Catholic reconciliation is: "Teach Them The Sash." Celtic are referred to as the IRA's "athletic wing." "A Father's Advice", meanwhile, can be bought on several cassettes such as "Songs of the UVF". The advice in question concerns a father imploring his son to join the YCV, the Young Citizens' Volunteers, the junior wing of the UVF.

At the point when the original chorus is: "our love was on the wing/ we had dreams, and songs to sing/ it's so lonely round the fields of Athenry," the alternative version is: "for my father said to me/ I must join the YCV/ with a pistol and a rifle in my hand."

Shortly before the chorus Rangers fans delight in shouting: "F**k Bobby Sands, he's deed."

Nothing annoys the Celtic support more it seems and they have responded with a chant about the former Rangers and Scotland winger Davie Cooper. It also ends with: "he's deed," Cooper having died a young man five years ago. It caused great offence at Ibrox yesterday, but then it was meant to.

Depressed? You could be. Even leaving Glasgow was dispiriting, negotiating a path through various sectarian skirmishes at Queen Street station. It may be a different country, but there was something very familiar about it all.

Pete St John was right, it is lonely 'round the fields of Athenry. Especially if you're an optimist.