Oh! just the way that it was ta'en,
Daffin down, and daffin down,
Oh! just the way that it was ta'en,
Daffin down, and dilly.
Had a horfe, I had nae mair,
him frae my daddy;
My purfe was light, and my heart was fair,
But my wit it was fu' ready.
And fae I thought upon a wile,
Outwittens of my daddy,
To fee myfell to a lowland laird,
Who had a bonny lady.
I wrote a letter, and thus began,
Madam, be not offended,
I'm o'er the lugs in love wi' you,
And care nae tho' ye kend it.
For I get little frae the laird,
And far lefs frae my daddy,
And I would blithly be the man
Would strive to please my lady.
She read my letter and fhe leugh,
Ye needna been fae blate, man;
You might ha'e come to me yourfell,
And tald me o' your state, man :
You might ha'e come to me yourfell,
Outwittens o' your daddy,
And made John Goukfton o' the laird,
And kifs'd his bonny lady.
Then fhe pat filler in my purse,
We drank wine in a cogie;
She fee'd a man to rub my horse,
And wow but I was vogie:
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye jades, fling by your wheel.
There's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a';
There's nae luck about the house,
When our goodman's awa'.
Is this a time to think of wark
When Colin's at the door?
Rax me my cloak, I'll down the quay,
And fee him come ashore.
Rife up, and make a clean fire-fide,
Put on the muckle pat;
Gi'e little Kate her cotton gown,
And Jock his Sunday's coat.
Mak' their fhoon as black as flaes,
Their ftockings white as fnaw;
'Tis a' to pleasure our goodman, He likes to fee them braw.
There are twa hens into the crib,
Have fed this month and mair,
Mak' hafte, and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare.
Bring down to me my bigonet,
My Bishop-fattin gown,
And then gae tell the Bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey flippers I'll put on,
My stockings pearl blue,
And a' to pleasure our goodman,
For he's baith leal and true.
Sae fweet his voice, fae fmooth his tongue,
His breath's like cauler air,
His very tread has mufic in't,
As he comes up the ftair.
Nae Luck about the House when our Goodwife's awa'.
OU fing of your goodman frae hame,
But whiles they're best awa',
And tho' the goodwife ftay at hame,
John does not toil for a'.
There's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's nae luck about the house
When our goodwife's awa'.
For there was nae luck about my house,
And little for my wame,
There was nae luck about my house
When Maggy gae'd frae hame.
There's nae luck, &c.
For firft the bairns raise frae their bed,
And for a piece did ca',
Then how could I attend my work,
Who had to answer a'?
There's nae luck, &c.
Their hands and faces were to wash,
And coaties to put on,
When every dud lay here and there,
Which vexed honeft John.
There's nae luck, &c.
He made the pottage wanting salt,
The kail fing'd in the pot,
The cutties lay under his feet,
And cogs they feem'd to rot.
There's nae luck, &c.
The hen and birds went to the fields,
The glede fhe whipt up twa,
The cow, wanting her chaff and straw,
Stood routing thro' the wa'.
There's nae luck, &c.
The bairns fought upon the floor,
And on the fire did fa';
Which vex'd the heart of honeft John,
When Maggy was awa'.
There's nae luck, &c.
With bitten fingers and cutted thumbs, T
And fcreichs which pierc'd the skies,
Which drove his patience to an end,
Wish'd death to close their eyes..
There's nae luck, &c.
Then went to please them with a scone,
And fo he burnt it black,
Ran to the well with twa new canns,
But none of them came back.
There's nae luck, &c.
The hens went to their neighbour's houfe,
And there they laid their eggs,
When fimple John reprov'd them for t
He broke poor chuckies legs.
There's nae luck, &c.
He little thought of Maggy's toil,
As fhe was by the fire,
But when he got a trial o't,
He foon began to tire.
There's nae luck, &c.
Firft when he got the task in hand,
He thought all would go right,
But O he little wages had,
On Saturday at night.
There's nae luck, &c.
He had no gain from wheel or reel,
Nor yarn had he to fell,
He wish'd for Maggy hame again,
Being out of money and meal.
There's nae luck, &c.
The de'il gaed o'er Jock Wabfter,
His lofs he could not tell,
But when he wanted Maggy's help,
He did nae good himfel.
There's nae luck, &c.
Another want I do not name,
All night he got no eafe,
But tumbl'd grumbl'd in his bed,
A fighting wi' the ftaes.
There's nae luck, &c.
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