This is an excerpt from this week's Claret and Amber Alert, a free Motherwell newsletter written by Graeme McGarry that goes out every Thursday at 6pm. To sign up, click here.

As the famous song has taught generations of Motherwell fans, had you been walking down the Copland Road on the evening of March 1st, 1961, you may well have heard a mighty clamour. And it was all down to the lesson being dished out to the boys in blue, by the boys in claret and amber.

Of course, the actual lyrics of that terracing ditty describe the 5-2 Scottish Cup replay triumph in slightly more colourful language than can be used here, but its enduring appeal ensures that the legend of that 90 minutes at Ibrox lives on to this day.

Pat Delaney was in the midst of that clamour over 63 years ago, lining up alongside the likes of Ian St John, Charlie Aitken, Billy Hunter, John Martis, Pat Quinn, Andy Weir and more, each legendary names in Fir Park folklore. These were the famous ‘Ancell Babes’, the name coined by the press men of the day to describe the thrilling team of youngsters that Motherwell manager Bobby Ancell had put together in Lanarkshire.

It was Delaney who scored perhaps the most crucial goal on the night on the stroke of half time, rocketing home a free-kick that levelled the score at 2-2 at the break, a moment he was both stunned and delighted to be asked about by fans as he travelled over from his home in Northern Ireland to Fir Park recently for a game.

Now 84, he still looks as if he could do a turn for the Steelmen, and his memories of that famous Ibrox evening are as vivid as ever.

“There were 86,000 at the game that night,” Delaney said. “Obviously, it was a great night.

“Me, Ian St John and Billy Hunter, we were supposed to be playing for the Scotland under-23s against England in Middlesbrough, and we had to call off. I wasn’t too happy about it, because I wanted to play against England! But you just had to do what you were told.

“When we got the free kick, we were down 2-1. Charlie Aitken and John Martis, they were shouting over at me to hit it. Pat Quinn was going to take it. We were sort of arguing, well, not arguing, but deliberating.

“Pat was ready to lob it into the goal mouth. The referee says you better hurry up because I'm ready to blow for half time. So that meant Pat just dropped the ball and I went in and placed it.

“I just remember running up and keeping my head down. I didn't expect to score. But I knew if I could hit it hard enough, the goalkeeper couldn't hold it, and Ian St John was great at coming in and following up. That was the plan, but when I lifted my head, I saw it flying in the postage stamp. I saw George Niven, the goalkeeper, lying on the ground looking up at it. Then the referee blew for half time and the rest is history.

“After the game, we were talking about it, and big John says to me, that’s the first time when I’ve been playing with you that you've ever done anything I've told you to!”

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That goal and that night were the highlight of a wonderful period at the club for Delaney, with his emotion clear as we speak in the shadow of the Main Stand at Fir Park, a structure he remembers being built.

“I remember the roofers,” he said.

“They were Glasgow fellas. They supported Celtic and Rangers. We used to come in here to train and they used to shout and give us stick coming in the door. You looked forward to the banter with them.”

He recalls that walking into Ancell’s dressing room for the first time was a daunting experience, but while he sensed early on that the legendary gaffer was putting together something special, he could never have imagined that he and his teammates would still be so revered when he reached his mid-80s.

“I was with Douglas Water Thistle, and teams were showing an interest in me,” he said.

“I was playing centre forward. I had a few clubs that were interested, then out of the blue, Peter Keachie, the chief scout at the time at Motherwell, asked me to come down for an interview with Bobby Ancell.

“That's when I saw them training, that day, and I saw all the young boys coming out. You could see John and Charlie and all those boys sitting there. It seemed as though something good was happening.

“You are worried whether they would accept you and all that. And if you get a chance to play in a game, can you take it? I'd watched them a few times on film, and they were good. I hoped I could be up there and perform and prove myself at that level.

“I knew when I was playing with them that it was something special. Because at that particular time, all the big clubs in the league, the players would have been about 30, 32, I think. Then out of nowhere there was this young Motherwell side.

“It means a lot to me that we are still remembered. Absolutely. It felt at the time like we had something special, and we really did.”