This section is from the book "The Chronicles Of A Garden: Its Pets And Its Pleasures", by Miss Henrietta Wilson. Also available from Amazon: The Chronicles of a Garden: Its Pets and Its Pleasures.
Here's only you an' me, Birdie! here's only you an' me! An' there you sit, you humdrum fowl, Sae mute and mopish as an owl,
Sour companie!
Sing me a little sang, Birdie! lilt up a little lay! When folks are here fu' fain are ye To stun them with yere minstrelsie
The leeve-lang day;
An' now we 're only twa, Birdie! and now we 're only twa; 'Twere sure but kind and cosie, Birdie, To charm wi' yere wee hurdy-gurdie
Dull care awa.
Ye ken, when folks are pair'd, Birdie! ye ken, when folks are pair'd, Life's foul an' fair an' freakish weather, An' light an' lumb'rin' loads, thegither
Maun a' be shared;
An' shared wi' lovin' hearts, Birdie! wi' lovin' hearts an' free; For fashions loads may weel be borne, An' roughest roads to velvet turn,
Trod cheerfully.
We 've a' our cares an' crosses, Birdie! we 've a' our cares an' crosses, But then to sulk an' sit sae glum - Hout, tout! what guid o' that can come
To mend one's losses?
Ye 're clipt in wiry fence, Birdie! ye 're dipt in wiry fence; An' aiblins I, gin I mote gang Upo' a wish, wad be or lang
Wi' frien's far hence :
But what's a wish, ye ken, Birdie! but what's a wish, ye ken? Nae cantrip naig, like hers o' Fife, Wha daurit wi' the auld weird wife
Flood fell an' fen.
'Tis true, ye 're furnish'd fair, Birdie! 'tis true ye 're furnish'd fair, Wi' a braw pair o' bonnie wings, Wad lift ye whar yon lav'rock sings,
High up i' th' air;
But then that wire's sae Strang, Birdie! but then that wire's sae Strang! An' I inysel', sae seemin' free, Nae wings have I to waften me
Whar fain I 'd gang.
An' say we'd baith our wills, Birdie! we'd each our wilfu' way : Whar lav'rocks hover, falcons fly; An' snares an' pitfa's aften lie
Whar wishes stray.
An' ae thing weel I wot, Birdie! an' ae thing weel I wot - There's Ane abune the highest sphere, Wha cares for a' His creatures here,
Marks every lot;
Wha guards the crowned king, Birdie! wha guards the crowned king, And taketh heed for sic as me - Sae little worth - an' e'en for thee,
Puir witless thing!
Sae now, let's baith cheer up, Birdie, and sin' we're only twa - Aff han' - let's ilk ane do our best, To ding that crabbit, canker'd pest,
Dull care awa!
Caroline Southey.
 
Continue to: