The Song Book No. 4/Nae Luck About the House

by Jean Adam

For other versions of this work, see There's nae Luck aboot the Hoose.

NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

And are ye sure the news is true?
and are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to talk o' wark?
mak haste, set by your wheel.
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 slaes,
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 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,
My Sunday's shoon they maun gae on,
my hose o' pearl blue,
It's a' to please my ain goodman,
for he's baith leel and true.
for there's nae luck, &c.

Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his speech,
his breath's 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.

The cauld blasts of the winter wind,
that thrilled thro' my heart,
They're a' blawn by, I hae him safe,
till death we'll never part;
But what puts parting in my head,
It may be far away;
The present moment is our ain;
the neist we never saw.
for there's nae luck, &c.