A Blype o' Clishmaclaver

The Bridal Path (British Lion; Kings-ley-Union). "What signifies the life o' man," sang Bobby Burns, "An' 'twere na for the lasses, 0?" The question is askit o' Ewan McEwan (Bill Travers), a couthie young crofter o' Beigg, by the carlies o' that Scottish isle, an' afore the braw laddie can say tapsalteerie he's awa' to the mainland tae hilch himsel' a wife. He haes his courtin' orders: nae Campbells, nae Catholics, and nae lassies from Erismore Isle. An' he haes the cantie assistance, in a' this clishmaclaver, o' Frank Launder an' Sidney Gilliat, the same glib-gabbit couple o' callans as made Wee Geordie (TIME, Oct. 29, 1956) sic a rantin' raible o' sculdudd'ry.

By the Auld Hornie, nae sooner is the lad in Oban than he spies a paughty lass wi' a weel-rounded doup. Och. but when he attempts to hae a crack wi' her, she snashes him back an' ca's him nae mair than a bluntie blellum. The neist lass he meets is a scroggie auld scaul' that snowks him out for a slidd'ry jaukiner from Ireland bent on houghmagandie (or waur), an' she gaes scraichin' to the bobbie.

Aye, for three snelly days the poor thiggin gaes stravagin' about Argyll wi' the King's men rairin' at his duff, all the whyles hummin' an' hankerin' at ilka Scottish hizzie that leuks as if she griens a kiutle. Hoch aye, what a collie-shangie! As the fourth day daws, the great ram-feezled bairn gaes spracklin' back to Beigg, ye ken, in a wee drunt. But the primsie lass he left behind shakes her cockernony at him and soon pits some rumble-gumption in his pow.

The tale loups along wi' a high jink an' diddle, an' forbye 'twill gie the whole bairntime a blype o' kecklin an' snirtlin. Attour, the spunkie singin' o' Brochan Lorn Tana Lorn an' the sicht o' the banks an' braes o' bonnie Argyll in sic a spairge o' green an' gowd is like to hae the harigals out o' ony mon wi' a drap o' Scottish bluid, an' that's the fu' graip o' gulravage.

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