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!