A wig! quo' she;
Ay, a wig, quo' he.
Ye auld blind dotard carle,
And blinder mat ye be!
'Tis naething but a clocken-hen
My minnie sent to me.
A clocken-hen! quo' he;
Ay, a clocken-hen, quo' she.
Far ha'e I ridden,
And muckle ha'e I seen,
But powder on a clocken-hen
Saw I never nane.
Our gudeman cam' hame at e'en,
And hame cam' he;
And there he saw a muckle coat,
Where nae coat should be.
How cam' this coat here?
How can this be?
How cam' this coat here,
Without the leave o' me?
A coat! quo' she;
Ay, a coat, quo' he.
Ye auld blind dotard carle,
And blinder mat ye be!
It's but a pair o' blankets
My minnie sent to me.
Blankets! quo' he,
Ay, blankets, quo' she.
Far ha'e I ridden,
And muckle ha'e I seen;
But buttons upon blankets
Saw I never nane!
Ben gaed our gudeman,
And ben gaed he;
And there he spied a sturdy man,
Where nae man should be.
How cam' this man here?
How can this be?
How cam' this man here,
Without the leave o' me?
A man! quo' she;
Ay, a man, quo' he.
Puir blind body,
And blinder mat you be!
It's but a new milkin' maid,
My mither sent to me.
A maid! quo' he;
Ay, a maid, quo' she.
Far ha'e I ridden,
And muckle ha'e I seen,
But lang-bearded maidens
Saw I never nane.
The Birks of Invermay.
[The first two stanzas of this song are by David Mallet (born 1714; died 1765;) the other stanzas are generally ascribed to the Rev. Alex. Bryce, minister of Kirknewton (born 1713; died 1786.) Mallet's verses appeared in the Orpheus Caledonius, where they are directed to be sung "to a Scotch tune, The Birks of Endermay." They are also given, with the three additional stanzas, in the 4th vol. of the Tea Table Miscellany. "Invermay," says Mr Robert Chambers, "is a small woody glen, watered by the rivulet May, which there joins the river Earn. It is about five miles above the bridge of Earn, and nearly nine from Perth. The seat of Mr. Belsches, the proprietor of this poetical region, and who takes from it his territorial designation, stands at the bottom of the glen. Both sides of the little vale are completely wooded, chiefly with birches; and it is altogether, in point of natural loveliness, a scene worthy of the attention of the amatory muse. The course of the May is so sunk among rocks, that it cannot be seen, but it can easily be traced in its progress by another sense. The peculiar sound which it makes in rushing through one particular part of its narrow, rugged, and tortuous channel, has occasioned the descriptive appellation of the Humble-Bumble to be attached to that quarter of the vale. Invermay may be at once and correctly described as the fairest possible little miniature specimen of cascade scenery."]
The smiling morn, the breathing spring,
Invites the tunefu' birds to sing;
And, while they warble from the spray,
Love melts the universal lay.
Let us, Amanda, timely wise,
Like them, improve the hour that flies;
And in soft raptures waste the day,
Among the birks of Invermay.
For soon the winter of the year,
And age, life's winter, will appear,
At this thy living bloom will fade,
As that will strip the verdant shade.
Our taste of pleasure then is o'er,
The feather'd songsters are no more;
And when they drop, and we decay,
Adieu the birks of Invermay!
