I sing of a river I'm happy beside,
The song that I sing is the Song of the Clyde,
Of all Scottish rivers it's dearest to me,
For it flows from Leadhills all its way to the sea.
It borders the orchards of Lanark so fair,
Meanders through meadows with sheep grazing there;
But from Glasgow to Greenock in towns on each side,
The hammer's ding-dong is the Song of the Clyde.

O the River Clyde, the wonderful Clyde,
The name of it thrills me and fills me with pride,
And I'm satisfied whate'er may betide,
The sweetest of songs is the song of the Clyde.

Imagine we've left Craigandoran behind,
The wind-happy yachts by Kilcreggan we find;
At Kirn and Dunoon and Inellan we'll stay,
Then Scotland's "Madeia" - that's Rothesay they say!
Or maybe by Fairlie or Largs we will go,
Or over to Millport that thrills people so;
Maybe journey to Arran, it can't be denied,
These scenes all belong to the Song of the Clyde.

There's paw an' maw frae the Broomielaw,
Gooin' doon the watter fae the fair,
There's Bob an' Mary on the Govan ferry,
Wishin' jet propulsion would be there.
There's steamers [bad word]  an' there's bodes snoozin'
An' there's ladies fishin' frae the pier,
An' paw's perspirin' very near expirin' 
As he rows his boat from there to 'ere.

With eyes a'flashin' it is voted smashin'
To be walkin' daily on the prom.
An' May an' Ellen are in seventh heaven,
As they stroll along with [bad word] an' Tom;
The Dumbarton Rock to ev'ry Jean an' Jock,
Extends a [bad word] that is high an' wide,
An' seems to know that they are on,
Their homeward way to hear the Song of the Clyde.