UKC

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 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 no for me,

  Up in the morning early;

When a' the hills are cover'd wi snaw,

  I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Robert Burns, Up in the Morning Early.