JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. BY ROBERT BURNS.
Reading edition
John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And monie a canty day, John, We’ve had wi’ ane anither. Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we’ll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.