And for my lady and me, that would be gardening.
Her part tends to be creative and to do the planning;
My part then is executive and to do the digging.
As a team we work together well;
But sometimes it also can be hell.
We have this castle up in Scotland;
It’s north of Edinburgh in the Highlands.
The grass is green, the garden lush;
Here my lady wanted me to plant a thistle bush.
The thistle is Scotland’s official flower;
It’s prickliness is its power.
As a symbol of Scottish independence,
It had to be planted in a prominent place.
“Put it out by the front gate,” my lady said.
“Everyone will see it, at any rate.”
So I dug a hole by the gate with my spade.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I think I’ve changed my mind.
Burrs might snag on ladies’ dresses; that would be unkind.”
“Put it next to the door,” my lady said.
“It can be seen there even more.”
So I dug a hole by the gate
and next to the door with my spade.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Under the roof, it would get no rain.
I think we’ll have to move it again.”
“Put it in the centre of the lawn,” my lady said.
“It will be beautiful in the sun.”
So I dug a hole by the gate,
next to the door
and in the centre of the lawn with my spade.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “That ruins the open space.
We’ll have to find a better place.”
“Put it by the rose,” my lady said.
“The blossoms should go together well, I suppose.”
So I dug a hole by the gate,
next to the door,
in the centre of the lawn
and by the rose with my spade.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Those colours would simply clash.
Cannot leave it there; that would be too rash.”
“Put it by the fence,” my lady said.
“Off to the side; quick, go hence.”
So I dug a hole by the gate,
next to the door,
in the centre of the lawn,
by the rose
and by the fence with my spade.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “It might grow onto the neighbour’s grounds.
Find a safer place, go look around.”
“Put it by the back wall,” my lady said.
“Out of the way, after all.”
So I dug a hole by the gate,
next to the door,
in the centre of the lawn,
by the rose,
by the fence
and by the back wall with my spade,
when suddenly it went clunk.
I dug up a treasure chest full of gold;
Worth a million Pounds, I was told!
Now I can enjoy the easy life.
I divorced myself from my ... spade.
I recline now in my garden chair;
And raise my whisky glass in the air.
So, let us all raise our glasses (everyone raises their glasses). Here’s to the Lassies
– as indecisive as they may be, they always make the right choice in the end
– to the Lassies!
Presenting the “Toast to the Lassies”.
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