Here's To Robert Poem by John Yaws

Ah, here's to Robert, King of Scots-
Whose rhyme surpassed them all..
So lightly from his silver tongue
Did weighty matters fall.
The bard to laud the common folk
Like poor old Souther' Johnny
His drinking friend when poor auld Tam
Found witches wa'nt so fonny!
And ghouls and goblins were his meat
And her with Cutty Sark-
He very near his end did meet from
Ridin' in the dark.
A poet, was the Bonnie Burns-
A Scotsman through and through-
Perhaps a bit of Welsh thrown in
To gi' the de'il 'is due.
For bluff and bold, be we Scots
And loud our claymores rung
But comes to music beautiful
Give me a Welshman's tongue.
An Irish fancy, Scotsman's heart
A Welshman's tongue to boot-
I'd charm the ladies into swoons
I vow I would! an' Hoot!
I'd tell of Glencoe's bloody past
An' Charlie Stuart, too-
They shed the red of Scottish blood
Ah, we drew English blue!
Ah! Lift a glass to Robert Burns
That bonnie, rhymin' man-
We'll drink his health a score o' times
When gatherin' the Clans.