'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.