Luck, boys, luck! - a nugget of gold
Big as my fist in the blest black mould!
Luck! - a gallon of bright yellow grains
Dotted like stars in the white quartz veins!

Luck? Can I keep it by wallowing in vice,-
Fighting, and swearing, and drinking, and dice?
D'ye call that Luck? No luck could be worse
Than picking up nuggets that brought such a curse!

Luck? My luck -
good
luck let it be,-
Blessings from others, and plenty for me;
Comfort without, and contentment within,
Uncurst by folly, uncanker'd by sin!

Luck! good luck! This hillock shall give
My sisters in Ayrshire enough while they live;
And haply bring father, and mother, and all,
From want and the workhouse to Liberty Hall!

Luck! In yon little heap there hide
My farm and its fields on a green hill-side,
With flocks, and bairns, and the braw wee wife,
And - God's good grace on a good man's life!