'Twas Past One O'Clock

1.
'Twas past one 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 vallies appearing all hoary white;
Forth I would go amid the pale, silent night,
To visit the fair one, the cause of my pain.
2.
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 slumber,
Awauk from sweet slumber and pity me:
For, that a stranger to a' pleasure, peace and rest,
Love into madness had fired my tortur'd breast,
And that I should be of a' men the maist unblest,
Unless she would pity my sad miserie!
3.
My true love arose and whispered to me -
(The moon looked in and envy'd my love's charms; --)
' An innocent maiden, ah, would you undo me!'
I made no reply, but leapt into her arms:
Bright Phoebus 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.

It Was Past One O'Clock

It was past one o'clock in a cold frosty morning
When bad tempered November blows over the plain,
I heard the church 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, silent night,
To visit the fair one, the cause of my pain.

So gently I stole to my lovely maid's chamber,
And rapped at her window, low down on my knee,
Begging that she would awake from sweet slumber,
Awake from sweet slumber and pity me:
For, that a stranger to all pleasure, peace and rest,
Love into madness had fired my tortured breast,
And that I should be of all men the most unblessed,
Unless she would pity my sad misery!

My true love arose and whispered to me -
(The moon looked in and envied my love's charms; --)
' An innocent maiden, ah, would you undo me!'
I made no reply, but leapt into her arms:
Bright Phoebus peeped over the hills and found me there;
As he has done, now, seven long years and more,
A more faithful, more constant, kinder, more loving pair,
His sweet cheering beam never enlightens nor warms.