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Up in the morning early.

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to wast, The drift is driving sairly: Sae loud and chill'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 & the hills are cover'd wi' sna', I'm ſure it's winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the storm, A' day the, fare but sparely, And lang's the night from e'en to morn, I'm sure it's winter fairly.