The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 87
There's Nae Luck about the House
There's Nae Luck about the House.
Rise up and mak' a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle pat;
1
Gi'e little Kate her cotton gown,
And Jock his Sunday hat.
And mak' their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw;
It's a' to please my ain guidman,
For he's been lang awa'.
[There's twa fat hens upon the bauk,
They've fed this month and mair;
Mak' haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare.
And spread the table neat and clean,
Gar
2 ilka thing look braw;
For wha can tell how Colin fared,
When he was far awa'.]
Come, gi'e me down my bigonet,
3
My bishop-satin gown;
And rin and tell the Bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town:
My Sunday shoon they maun gae on,
My hose o' pearl blue;
It's a to please my ain guidman.
For he's baith leal and true.
Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like caller air;
His very fit 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 downright dizzie wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
4
[The cauld blasts o' the winter wind,
That thirl'd through my heart,
They're a' blawn by; I ha'e him safe,
'Till death we'll never part.
But what puts parting in my mind,
It may be far awa';
The present moment is our ain,
The neist we never saw!]
[Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content,
I ha'e nae mair to crave;
Could I but live to mak' him blest,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
5
And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.]
1 Large Pot.
2 Make.
3 A linen cap, or coif.
4 To shed tears.
5 Above all others.