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302 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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Chorus. 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 Ws winter fairly I 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. |
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No. 322. No cold approach, no alter'd mien.
Air : Ianthy the lovely Scots Musical Museum, 1792, No. 340. |
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No cold approach, no alter'd mien,
Just what would make suspicion start, No pause the dire extremes between :
He made me blest—and broke my heart. [From hope, the wretch's anchor, torn,
Neglected and neglecting all; Friendless, forsaken and forlorn,
The tears I shed must ever fall.] |
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