John Anderson, my jo,^[181] John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;^[182]
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty^[183] day, John,
We've had wi' are anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.[181] Sweetheart.
[182] Smooth
[183] Merry.