up in the morning early
cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
the drift is driving sairly;
sae loud and shill's i hear the blast—
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
chorus.—up in the morning's no for me,
up in the morning early;
when a' the hills are covered wi' snaw,
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
the birds sit chittering in the thorn,
a' day they fare but sparely;
and lang's the night frae e'en to morn—
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
up in the morning's, &c.
how long and dreary is the night
how long and dreary is the night,
when i am frae my dearie!
i sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
tho' i were ne'er so weary:
i sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
tho' i were ne'er sae weary!
when i think on the happy days
i spent wi' you my dearie:
and now what lands between us lie,
how can i be but eerie!
and now what lands between us lie,
how can i be but eerie!
how slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
as ye were wae and weary!
it wasna sae ye glinted by,
when i was wi' my dearie!
it wasna sae ye glinted by,
when i was wi' my dearie!