When berry time comes roond each year
Blair's population's swellin,
There's every kind o picker
there
And every kind
o dwellin.
There's tents and huts and caravans,
There's bothies and
there's bivvies
And shelters made wi tattie-bags
And dug-outs
made wi divvies.
There's corner-boys fae Glesgae,
Kettle-boilers fae Lochee,
There's miners fae the pits o Fife,
Mill-workers fae
Dundee,
And fisherfowk fae Peterheid
And tramps fae
everywhere,
Aa lookin fir a livin aff
The berry fields o Blair.
There's travellers fae the Western
Isles,
Fae Arran, Mull and Skye;
Fae Harris, Lewis and Kyles o Bute,
They come
their luck to try,
Fae Inverness and Aberdeen,
Fae Stornoway and Wick
Aa flock to Blair at the berry time,
The straws and
rasps to pick.
There's some wha earn a pound or twa,
Some cannae earn their keep,
There's some wid pick fae morn till nicht,
And some wid raither sleep.
There's some wha hae tae pick
or stairve,
And some wha
dinna care
There's comedy and tragedy
Played on the fields o Blair.
There's faimilies pickin for one purse,
And some wha pick alane,
There's men wha share and
share alike
Wi wives
wha's no their ane.
There's gladness and there's
sadness tae,
There's
happy herts and sare,
For there's some wha bless
and some wha curse
The berry fields o
Blair.
Before I put my pen awa,
It's this I would
like to say:
You'll travel far afore you'll meet
A kinder lot than they;
For I've mixed wi them in
field in pub
And while I've breath to spare,
I'll bless the hand that led me tae
The berry fields o Blair.