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 canty 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!
