Garnet Rogers Denbrae
DENBRAE Garnet Rogers
Come all ye bold plowmen and list to my tale,
As you sit round your tables drinkin' your ale;
And I'll take you all back to a far distant day,
When I drove the last Clydesdales to work on Denbrae.
They were two bonnie blacks with white faces and feet,
In the country around they could never be beat;
And you'd look far and wide tween the Forth and the Tay,
But to match my two Clydesdales, the pride of Denbrae.
They were matchless in power on the cart and the plow,
And my hands on the reins and my voice they'd well know;
They had never a thought in their hearts but t'obey,
They were two bonnie Clydesdales, the pride of Denbrae.
But the years they wear on, and the Winters grow cold,
And horses, like men, can do naught but grow old;
But my memories are with them, though I'm far away,
For I drove the last Clydesdales to work on Denbrae.
