Page:King's muster (1).pdf/6

6 The sheep are conring i’ the heugh,

O sirs! it's winter fairly.

Now up in the morning's no for rue,

Up in the morning early;

I'd rather gang supperless to my bed,

Than rise in the morning early.

Rude rairs the blast amang the woods

The branches tirlin barely;

Amang the chimley taps it thuds,

And frost is nippen sairly.

Now up in the morning’s no for me,

Up in the morning early;

To sit a' night I'd rather agree,

Than rise in the morning early.

The sun peeps o’er yon southlan’ hill,

Like onie timorous carlie;

Just blinks a wee, then sinks again,

And that we find severely.

Now up in the morning’s no for me,

Up in the morning early;

When snaw blaws into the chimley cheek,

Wha’d rise in the morning early.

Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush,

Poor things they suffer sairly;

In cauldrife quarters a' the night,

A' day they feed but sparely.

Now up the morning’s no for me,

Up in the morning early;