There's Nae Luck About the House

cho: There's nae luck about the house
There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house
When my gude-man's awa'.

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark
Ye gauds fling by your wheel!
Is this a time to think o' wark
When Collin's at the door?
Rax me my cloak I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.

Rise up and mak a clean fireside
Put on the muckle pot;
Gie little Kate her cotton gown
And Jock his Sunday coat.
And 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.

There are twa hens into the crib
Have fed this month and mair,
Make haste and thraw their necks about
That Collin weel may fare.
Bring down to me my bigonet
My bishop-satin gown,
And then gae tell the Bailie's wife
That Collin's come to town.

Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue
His breath's like caller air;
His very tread 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 dizzy wi' the joy
In troth I'm like to greet.

From Minstrelsy of Scotland, Moffatt.
Note: words first published in 1776, as the Mariner's Wife.
There's a Jacobite version of this (help, anyone?) with the
chorus ending "Since Charlie's gone awa'" RG
RG