The King's muster/Nae luck about the house

by Jean Adam

For other versions of this work, see There's Nae Luck About the House.

NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

And are ye sure the news are true!
And are ye sure he’s weel!
Is this a time to ta’k o’ wark,
Mak’ hast set by your wheel.
Is this a time to ta’k o’ wark,
When Collin’s at the door,
Gi’e me my cloak, I’ll to the Quey
And see him come ashore.

For there’s nae luck about the house,
There’s nae luck ava;
There’s little pleasure in the house,
When our gudeman’s awa.

Rise up and mak’ a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle Pat,
Gi’e little Kate her cotton gown,
And Jock his Sunday’s coat;
And mak’ their shoon as black as slees,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's a’ to please my ain gudeman,
For he’s been lang awa.
For there’s nae luck, &c.

There’s twa fat hens upon the bauk,
'S been fed ⟨this⟩ month and mair,
Mak' hast and thraw their necks about,
That Collin weel may fare;
And spread the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw,
It's a’ for love o’ my gudeman,
For he's been lang awa.
For there's nae luck, &c.

O gi'e me down my biggonets,
My Bishop satin gown,
For I maun tell the Bailie’s wife,
That Collin's come to town.
My Sunday's shoon they maun gae on.
My hose o’ pearl blue,
It’s a' to please my ain gudeman,
For ce's baith leal and true.
For there’s nae luck, &c.

Sae true’s his words, sae smooth’s his speech,
His breath like caller air,
His very foot has music in’t
When he comes up the stair.
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.
For there’s nae luck, &c.