Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/131

Rh And mak' their shoon as black as slaes,

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,

They've 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 braw;

For wha can tell how Colin fared,

When he was far awa'.

For there's nae luck, &c.

See true heart, sae smooth his speech,

His breath like caller air;

His very foot 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 thought,—

In troth, I'm like to greet.

For there's nae luck, &c.

The cauld blasts o' the winter wind,

That thirl'd through my heart,

They're a' blawn by, I ha'e him safe,

Till death we'll never part:

But what puts parting in my head?

It may be far awa',

The present moment is our ain,

The neist we never saw.

For there's nae luck, &c.

Since Colon's weel, I'm weel content,

I ha'e nae mair to crave;

Could I but live to mak' him blest,

I'm blest aboon the lave:

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.