BUT are ye sure the news is true? Is this a time to think o' wark ? Ye jades, fling by your wheel! For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck about the house, Is this a time to think o' wark, Rise up, and make a clean fireside, Put on the mickle pot; Gie little Kate her cotton gown, Mak' a' their shoon as black as sloes, Their stockings white as snaw; It's a to pleasure our gudeman He likes to see them braw. THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. There are twa hens into the crib Hae fed this month or mair; Mak' haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare. My Turkey slippers I'll put on, For he's baith leal and true. Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue, His breath's like cauler air; I remember, I remember, The roses, red and white, Those flowers made of light! I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! |