Brian McNeill
One evening as I walked along the bonny banks o' Clyde
I fell in wi' an old man, doon by the waterside
Our talk was of the days in the factories and yards
When the fighting men of Glasgow were the hardest of the hard
Oor talk was of the heroes, of Maxton and McShane
And would the city ever see the likes o' them again
He told me he was sure there was still fighting to be done
But we wouldn't see the fighters till the battle had begun
To hear the old man talking took me back across the years
To the hard, hungry thirties in a city full o' tears
When a wee man from the Gorbals was the victor and the king
The toast of every company, the champion o' the ring
Benny Lynch came up the hard way, at fifty bob a fight
With his eyes upon the glory till the whisky killed the light
And in the streets and tenements you'd hear the people tell
How Benny Lynch's victories belonged to them as well
The whistling of the wind brought another man to mind
A different kind of fighter who was born before his time
Hugh Roberton believed that to go to war was wrong
And against the world's opinion he refused to change his song
He was the city's Orpheus, he gave the world a choir
He forged a song for Glasgow out of gentleness and fire
And when they tried to silence him he fought with all his might
With the dignity and courage of a man who would not fight
Now the song that comes from Glasgow says the city's raw and rough
And standing by the Clyde I knew the song was true enough
But a sound came o'er the river, the beating o' a drum
From the Gorbals that they tore down just to build another slum
It beat upon my heart and told me never to forget
That we're waiting for the fighter that will come from Glasgow yet
We'll know him by his courage, for he'll never give an inch
With the dignity of Roberton and the guts of Benny Lynch