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　　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! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns