'Bobbie' For Brotherhood
Lang syne I penned a mickle rhyme
That muckle grief brocht to my soul;
For critics said 'twas aye a crime
Nae Scottish patriot could thole
Whit way I ca'ed their honored bard,
Wi' kind intention, 'Bobbie' Burns.
Aye, mon, they smote me fine an' hard
Wi' sic' fierce words as nae yin learns
Save native sons, those braw, stern men
O' mountain crag an' heather glen.
Misdoubtin' whit my critics said,
An' sair distressed aboot my plight,
A notion cam' intil my head
To haud a Scottish plebiscite.
Forbye I passed frae Scot to Scot
Spierin' whit way they named their bard,
An' aye the same reply I got
Wi'out dispute in sic' regard;
For ilka mon gie'd answer straight
Wi' ne'er a thocht tae heesitate.
A mon frae Glasea first I speired,
A humble an' unlettered loon,
An' then a scholar, red o' beard,
That cam' from Edinburgh toon;
A Hielan' chief, a rowan' chiel,
Men oot o' Leith an' Aberdeen,
Tae ane an' a' I made appeal,
Tae gowk an' greybeard, wife an' wean,
An' a', wi' unanimity
The selfsame answer gi'ed tae me.
An 'twas na' Robert, Rab or Rob
They ca'ed yon braw, poetic yin
That wakes in Scottish hearts a throb
Wi' words that mak' the whole world kin.
They named him 'Bobbie' wi'out shame,
As Bobbie he will ever be
To sic' as scorn to clothe his name
Wi' smug respectabeelity.
To humble hearts his songs defend
Beloved Bobbie, brither, friend.
Brothers O' Mine
Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine,
All the world over, from pole to pole
All of them brothers of mine and thine
Every wondering, blundering soul.
Banded together by grace divine,
Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine.
Good Brother Green at the service sat
Sat in the chapel and bowed his head;
Praying most fervently into his hat;
Bending his knee when The Word was read.
For good Brother Green was a godly man
A godly keristian; and what be more,
He loved all sinners, and carefully ran
A worldy and prosperous grocery store.
'Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine,'
Quoted the preacher, with dolorous drone:
'The Lord He hath given thee all that is thine.
Love ye not gold for itself alone.
E'er to the fallen thy mercy incline,
Love thou thy neighbour! O, brothers o' mine.'
Good comrade Hal in the tavern sat
Sat in the tavern and tossed his head,
Tilting a glass to the brim of his hat;
Bending his arm when the toast was said.
But comrade Hal was a godless man
A godless sinner; and what be more,
He loved good liquor, and carelessly ran
A long, long bill at the grocery store.
'Brother o' mine, brother o' mine,'
Shouted the tippler in riotous tone,
'Toiled thou, and sweated for all that is thine;
But love not gold for itself alone.
Gold bringeth gladness and red, red wine.
Fill up another! O, brother o' mine.'
Every Sabbath, since childhood years,
Good Brother Green at the service sat
A traveller stern in this vale of tears
Breathing his piety into his hat;
Praying for guidance and praying for light;
Vowing unworthiness more and more;
With a nice warm feeling that all was right
With the business of Green's Cash Grocery Store.
'Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine,'
Turn not away from thy brother in sin.
Afar let the light of your righteousness shine,
A beacon to gather the wanderer in.
Lovers of wickedness, lovers of wine,
All,' said the worshipper, 'brothers o' mine.'
Every Sabbath, since childhood's years,
Comrade Hal in the tavern sat
A rioter gay in this vale of tears,
Tilting his glass to the brim of his hat;
Drinking from morn to the fall of night;
Vowing good-fellowship more and more;
With a nice warm feeling that all was right,
And a curse for the bill at the grocery store.
Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine,
Seek ye a pew or a pewter to-day?
Where is the brotherhood vaunted divine
Here, in the tavern - or over the way?
Drink is a snare, and a mocker is wine;
But the world? - Nay, forget it, O brothers o' mine!
Monday morn, with a soul for work,
Good Brother Green stood rubbing his hands
Rubbing his hands with an oily smirk;
Seeking the trade a good name commands.
Came there a widow who pleaded for time
For a month, for a week! Ah, what would it mean!
'Sell up her sticks. This pretence is a crime!
And business is business,' quoth good Brother Green.
Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine!
Cover your drunkenness, cover your spite!
Brother in piety, brother in wine
Are we a brotherhood? Lord give us light!
Lover of cant, or the lover of wine
Which lov'st thou of these brothers o' thine?
Heavy and dull on the Monday morn,
Comrade Hal went rubbing his head
Rubbing his head with an air forlorn;
Seeking the tavern where wine is red.
Passed he a beggar who aid invoked.
'Catch, then, brother,' he merely cried,
Spinning a coin as he smiled and joked.
'Now I go thirsty,' the tippler sighed.
Brothers o' mine, brothers o' mine
Brothers in purple, brothers in rags
Who can the bonds of your kin define?
Plead ye beggars, and jest ye wags!
'Nay, beggar brother, why dost thou whine?
All these good people are brothers o' thine.'
