Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

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!