'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.