UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast.
I'm sure it's winter fairly
Up in the morning &c.
The birds sit chittering on the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely
And lang's the nicht frae e'en to morn
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
Up in the morning, &c.
THE BANKS O' DOON.
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn;
Thou minds me of departed joys,
Departed, never to return.
Oft ha'e I roved by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And hear ilk bird sing o' its love,
