12
Is this a time to talk o’ wark,
when Colin’s at the door?
Gie me my cloak. I’ll to the quay,
and see him safe ashore.
For there’s nae luck about the house,
there’s nae luck ava;
There’s little pleasure in the house
whenour goodman’s awa.
Rise up and make a clean fire-side,
put on the muckle pat;
Gie little Kate her cotton gown,
and Jock his Sunday's hat;
And mak their shoon as black as shoes,
their hose as white as snaw,
It’s a’ to please my ain goodman,
for he’s been lang awa,’
for there’s nae luck, &c.
There are twa hens upon the bank
have 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 ilka thing look bra’;
It’s a’ for love of my goodman,
for he’s been lang awa’,
for there’s nae luck, &c.
O gie me down my bigonet,
my bishop-satin gown.
For I maun tell the bailie s wife,
that Colin’s come to town,
