Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye lass, 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 good man's awa.

Is this a time to think o' wark,
When Colin's at the door?

Gi' me my cloak, I'll down the key,
And see him come ashore.

There's nae luck about the house, &c.

Rise up and mak' a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle pot;
Gi' little Kate her cotton gown,
And Jack his Sunday's coat.
There's nae luck, &c.

Mak' their shoon as black as slaes,
Their stockings white as snaw,
It's a' to pleasure our good man,,
He likes to see them braw.
There's nae luck, &c.

There are twa hens into the crip,
I've fed this month or mair;
Make haste to throw their necks about,
That Colin well may fare.

There's nae luck, &c.

Bring down to me my bigonet,
My bishop-satin gown,

And then gae tell the Bailie's wife,

That Colin's come to town.
There's nae luck, &c.

My Turkey slippers I'll put on,
My stockings of pearl blue,

And a' to pleasure our good man,
For he's both leal and true.

There's nae luck, &c.

Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue,

His breath's like cauler air,

His very tread has music in't,
As he comes up the stair.
There's nae luck, &c.

And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the joy,
And e'en I'm like to greet.
There's nae luck, &c.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.

A CANTATA.-By Robert Burns.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or wavering like the Bauckie-bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;

When hail stanes drive wi' bitter skite,
And infant frosts begin to bite,

In hoary cranreuch drest!

Ae night at e'en a merry core

O' randie gangrel bodies,

In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,

To drink their orra duddies!

Wi' quffing and laughing,

They ranted and they sang;

Wi' jumping and thumping,
The vera girdle rang.

First niest the fire in auld red rags,

Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,

And knapsack a' in order;

His doxy lay within his arm,

Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm-
She blinket on her sodger;

An' ay he gives the tozle drab
The tither skelpin kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab
Just like an aumos dish.

Ilk smack still did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whip,
Then staggering and swaggering
He roar'd this ditty up-

AIR.

TUNE- Soldiers Joy.'

I.

I AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;

This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

II.

My prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd his

last,

When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram; I served out my trade when the gallant game was

play'd,

And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

III.

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt❜ries,
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb;
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to lead me,
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.

IV.

And now, tho' I must beg with a wooden arm and leg, And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum,

I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my callet, As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum.

V.

Lal de daudle, &c.

What tho' with hoary locks I must stand the winter shocks,

Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, When the t'other bag I sell, and the t'other bottle tell, I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

RECITATIVO.

He ended, and the kebars sheuk
Aboon the chorus roar;

While frighted rattons backward leuk,
And seek the benmost bore;

A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,

He skir'd out encore!

But up arose the martial chuck,
And laid the loud uproar.

AIR.

TUNE- Soldier Laddie."

I.

I ONCE was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when,
And still my delight is in proper young men;
Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie,
No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie.

II.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

The first of my loves was a swaggering blade,
To rattle the thundering drum was his trade;
His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy,
Transported I was with my sodger laddie.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

III.

But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch,
The sword I forsook for the sake of the church;
He ventured the soul, and I risked the body,
"Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie.

IV.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot,
The regiment at large for a husband I got;
From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,
I asked no more but a sodger laddie.

V.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair,
Fill I met my auld boy at Cunningham fair;
His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy,
My heart it rejoiced at my sodger laddie.

VI.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

And now I have liv'd-I know not how long,
And still I can join in a cup or a song;

But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,
Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie.

RECITATIVO.

Sing, lal de lal, &c.

Then niest outspak a raucle carlin,
Wha kent fu' weel to cleck the sterling,
For monie a pursie she had hooked,
And had in monie a well been ducked.
Her dove had been a Highland laddie,
But weary fu' the waefu' woody!
Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began
To wail her braw John Highlandman.