Up in the Morning Early
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’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its 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 no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.
Robert Burns
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Robert Burns Poems
- A Sonnet upon Sonnets
- To a Mouse
- A Red, Red Rose
- Address to the Deil
- Epistle to a Young Friend. May, 1786
- Holy Willie’s Prayer
- John Anderson my Jo
- Mary Morison
- Poor Mailie’s Elegy
- Scots Wha Hae, or, Robert Bruce’s Address to His Troops at Bannockburn
- Tam o’ Shanter. A Tale
- To a Louse, On Seeing one on a Lady’s Bonnet at Church
- Up in the Morning Early
- Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet
- Address of Beelzebub
- Epitaph on my own Friend
- A Man’s a Man for a’ That
- The Silver Tassie
- Afton Water
- The Cotter’s Saturday Night
- O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast
- Address to a Haggis
- Here’s a health to them that’s awa