Up in the morning early. The chorus of this song is old; but the two stanzas are Burns's. CHORUS Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early ; I'm sure it's winter fairly. Cauld -blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly ; 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. musing on the Roaring Dcean. TUNE—“ Druimion Dubh." Musing on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying Heaven in warm devotion, For his weal where'er he be. Hope and Fear's alternate billow Yielding late to Nature's law; Whispering spirits round my pillow Talk of him that's far awa'! musing on the Roaring Dcean. Ye whom sorrow never wounded, Ye who never shed a tear, Gaudy Day to you is dear. Gentle Night, do thou befriend me; Downy Sleep, the curtain draw; Spirits kind, again attend me, Talk of him that's far awa! y Heart's in the highlands. TUNE_" Faille na Miosg." 0 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods ; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; The Banks of Nith. TUNE—“Robie donna Gorach." The Thames flows proudly to the sea, Where royal cities stately stand; But sweeter flows the Nith to me, Where Cummins ance had high command: When shall I see that honour'd land, That winding stream I love so dear! Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand For ever, ever keep me here? 1 How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom ! How sweetly wind thy sloping dales, Where lambkins wanton through the broom ! Though wandering, now, must be my doom, Far from thy bonny banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume, Amang the friends of early days ! |