Cauld Frosty Morning

'Twas past ane o'clock in a cauld frosty morning,

When cankert November blaws over the plain,

I heard the kirk-bell repeat the loud warning,

As, restless, I sought for sweet slumber in vain:

Then up I arose, the silver moon shining bright;

Mountains and valleys appearing all hoary white;

Forth I would go, amid the pale, s'ient night,

And visit the Fair One, the cause of my pain.-

Sae gently I staw to my lovely Maid's chamber,

And rapp'd at her window, low down on my knee;

Begging that she would awauk from sweet slum'ber,

Awauk from sweet slumber and pity me:

For, that a stranger to a' pleasure, peace and rest,

Love into madness ha fired my tortur'd breast;

And that I should be of a'men the maist unblest,

Unless she would pity my sad miserie!

My Truic-love arose and whispered to me,

(The moon looked in, an envy'd my Love's charms;)

'An innocent Maiden, ah, would you undo me!'

I made no reply, but leapt into her arms:

Bright Phebus peep'd over the hills and found me there;

As he has done, now, seven lang years and mair:

A faithfuller, constanter, kinder, more loving Pair,

His sweet-chearing beam nor enlightens nor warms.