Bobbie

Gin you're gangin' doon the city Come next Sabbath afternoon, An' you'll catch a glimpse o' Tartan An' you'll hear a skirlin' tune; An' you'll see a crowd o' laddies Lookin' verra dour an' staid, Wi' just here an' there a Cairngorn, An' a wee tiny speck o' plaid; Dinna think from their expression They are on some mission sad For their thoughts are back wi' Bobbie, Wi' the braw, brave ploughman lad. Once again they'll see him treadin' Dreary-eyed behind the plough, With his thoughts amonsgt the angels And a brave light on his brow. Once again they'll see him sparking By the burnside and the glen, Wi' another sort of angel An' a sonsy lass ye ken. Aye, a thousand sober Scotsmen On the Sabbath afternoon, Will be back again with Bobbie With a graceless, godlike gloom. But they'll not tell of his tailin's; He was human, he was young, But they'll join him in his dreaming, And the rare brave songs he sung Singing songs of bonny Scotland, That will never fade with time: Noble thoughts of truth and beauty That is genius put in rhyme And they'll love him for his dreaming Aye, and for his failin's, too, When their thoughts go back to Bobbie, Sweetest singer Scotland knew