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!