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!