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(32) Page 22 - Birks of Invermay
22 THE POCKET SONGSTER ;
Come in thy raven-plumage, night !
Sun, moon, and stars, withdraw a' !
And bring an angel-pen to write
My transport wi' my Anna ! Burns,
THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY.
The smiling morn, the breatliing spring,
Invite the tuneful birds to sing ;
And while they warble from each spray,
Love melts the universal lay.
Let us, Amanda, timely wise,
Like them employ the hour that flies ;
And in soft raptures waste the day
Amang 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 please no more ;
And when they droop, and we decay.
Adieu ! the birks of Invermay. Mallet,
HOW LANG AND DREARY.
Tune — Cauld Kail in Aberdeen.
How lang an' dreary is the night,
WTien I am frae my dearie !
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.

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