Greyfriars Bobby

Once there was this Scottish man
Who loved his dog, as Scotsmen can.
Where e’er he went throughout each day
His faithful pup was sure to bae.

When I was just a little lad
The story heard – my sister had
In book she'd read from mail that week
Shared story's gist – to tears in greet.

For whereupon his master's death
The pup remained despite no breath
Came from this old and friendly man –
His vigil kept – as puppies can.

Each day at graveside stayed that pup
Through rain and sunshine – quite enough
To make the best of any man
Leave loyal past – as humans can.

His name was, ‘Bobby’, known by each
In land of Scotsmen – beach to beach.
In Greyfriars Church, when Bobby died,
They laid him by his old friend's side.

On tour as adult, Scotsman came
Onto our bus, told tale again;
Once more for me to tears in greet
As we sat quiet in our seat.

They say us Scots in New World are
More Scottish than the Scots by far.
In this, though, I would say we be
The same – we value loyalty.

Strange how such tales play out in life
As we encounter lifetime strife –
I find as life ebbs from my friend
My loyalty her sins transcend –

Like Bobby's master she raised me
Through God's intended way to be
The church (for all its problems deep)
His word to carry; had me seek –

His mind and will and best for me –
And loyalty instilled in me.
Though ‘Creenglish’, yes, indeed I be,
This Scottish side’s called loyalty.

Perhaps that's why as life goes on
I stay, like puppy on that ground,
As life ebbs from her recent life
And she's torn up by inward strife.

Misplaced, perhaps, such loyalty
From dogs like Bobby, men like me,
Think what you will, in freedom's land,
In Scotland's Kirk abides this man.

Sometimes in death there's places where
We cannot go as they repair
To lands and fortunes not our own,
Yet in our hearts there's friendship sown.

The question then is how to live –
When, where, and how, I best might give
To those who follow, younger folk,
Word of his love and easy yoke.

The folks of churchly way ’fore me
Did what they could to help me see
How rich life is – walked quietly
Just into possibility.

Then, at this point, a rending came –
Our ways divided – not the same;
They pointed down the road and said,
“We leave you here – by Him be led –

“Don't, like that dog, whose loyalty,
Inspires us all, abide – you see
Next section of the road is yours –
Take torch, then pass without remorse –

“To those who follow in your tracks;
Give them the wisdom that they lack;
No one, when born, knows all these things,
Which to each life such richness brings.”

I hear, but maybe you'll abide
My pausing briefly by your side
As I respect wish to convey
At this, our parting of the way.

Deep feeling now sweeps over me;
The road ahead I dimly see;
As those in hearse they greeting are –
By younger laughter carried far.

Today I greet – Greyfriar’s pup –
With mem’ries of the times we supped
Together on the road till now –
Tomorrow I'll move on, somehow.

So now I pause, say thanks to you
Who helped me grow, fulfilled as ‘Stu’;
The treasure passed to me, ’tis plain
I'll pass, hope that they’ll do the same.

So strange, this life of mystery –
Our fleeting days slipped silently,
Till we, in turn, find roads divide,
Say thanks, then to our futures hie.

Each stage of grief we pass our way –
Shock; then denial’s softening day;
Buy time through desperate bargain’s store;
Till anger when there is no more.

Then time to rearrange our lives
When end of things for sure arrives;
It's called depression’s quiet time,
For life goes on, though not entwined.

Then comes that blessed day of peace,
At last – when loyalty’s released.
Our ways divide, and we can part
From graveyard now, no broken heart.

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