Wi' monie a vow and lock’d embrace
our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
we tore ourselves asunder.
But oh; fell death’s untimely frost,
that nipt my flower so early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay
that wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly!
And clos’d, for aye, the sparkling glance
that dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
the heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still, within my bosom’s core,
shall live my Highland Mary,
John Anderson my, Jo
JOHN Anderson, my jo, John,
when we were first acquaint,
Your locks were like the raven,
your bonnie brow was'brent;
But now you brow is bauld, John,
your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo
John Anderson, my jo, John,
we’ve clamb the hill thegither.
And mony a canty day, John,
we’ve had wi’ ane anither.
