JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent;
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonie 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 mony a cantie day, John,
We’ve had wi’ ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
And hand in hand we’ll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
(Robert Burns)
More Poetry from Robert Burns:
- A Dedication (Robert Burns Poems)
- Address to the Devil (Robert Burns Poems)
- A Dream (Robert Burns Poems)
- Address ToThe Devil (Robert Burns Poems)
- Address to the Unco Guid (Robert Burns Poems)
- Address To A Haggis (Robert Burns Poems)