| |
| BUT are ye sure the news is true? | |
| And are ye sure he’s weel? | |
| Is this a time to think o’ wark? | |
| Ye jauds, fling bye your wheel! | |
| For there’s nae luck about the house, | 5 |
| There’s nae luck at a’; | |
| There’s nae luck about the house, | |
| When our gudeman’s awa’. | |
| |
| Is this a time to think o’ wark, | |
| When Colin’s at the door? | 10 |
| Rax down my cloak—I’ll to the quay, | |
| And see him come ashore. | |
| |
| Rise up and make a clean fireside, | |
| Put on the muckle pot; | |
| Gie little Kate her cotton gown, | 15 |
| And Jock his Sunday’s coat. | |
| |
| Make their shoon as black as slaes, | |
| Their stockings white as snaw; | |
| It’s a’ to pleasure our gudeman— | |
| He likes to see them braw. | 20 |
| |
| There are twa hens into the crib | |
| Hae fed this month or mair; | |
| Mak haste and thraw their necks about, | |
| That Colin weel may fare. | |
| |
| My Turkey slippers I’ll put on, | 25 |
| My stockins pearl-blue,— | |
| It’s a’ to pleasure our gudeman, | |
| For he’s baith leal and true. | |
| |
| Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue, | |
| His breath’s like cauler air; | 30 |
| His very foot has music in’t, | |
| As he comes up the stair. | |
| |
| And will I see his face again, | |
| And will I hear him speak? | |
| I’m downricht dizzy wi’ the thought, | 35 |
| In troth I’m like to greet. | |
| There’s nae luck about the house, | |
| There’s nae luck at a’; | |
| There’s nae luck about the house, | |
| When our gudeman’s awa’. | 40 |
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