John Anderson

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    John Anderson, my jo, John,
    When we were first acquent
    Your locks were like the raven,
    Your bonnie brow was brent;
    But now your brow is bald, 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 mony 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.