Off the Forth, you rode a soft Scottish breeze
Launched Frightened Rabbit across the seas
Your soul was the essence of the band
You swam until you couldn't see land
Scott Hutchison, please now rest in ease
Poured your soul into song
Your music obscured what was wrong
Considered yourself a modern leper
With pleas your songs you would pepper
Through these your legacy lives long
Depression abounds, music says
Yours sustained many for days
We lost a distinct sound
Without you around
To remind us to sing the greys
The injuries they come gushing
To the bottom the Mets are rushing
A disabled list full of heroes
As the box score fills with zeroes
Just another summer in Flushing
With his brother's loss he had to cope
Still gave the needy a helping rope
In complacency he found a foe
And tragically, a half-century ago
The final death blow of hope
Last time ...
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