Trade o' langsyne, or, The mechanic's farewell/John Anderson My Jo
JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.
John Anderson my jo, John, I wonder what you
mean,
To rise sae early in the morn, and sit sae late at e’en;
Yell blear out a’ your e’en John, and why shou’d ye
do so?
Gang sooner to your bed at e’en, John Anderson,
my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John, ye were my first con-
ceit,
Ye need na think it strange, John, tho’ I lo’e you
ear’ and late;
They sae yere turnin auld, John, I scarce believe
it’s so,
For I think ye’re ay the same to me, John Ander-
son my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John, when we were first ac-
quaint,
Your locks were like the raven, John, your bonny
brow was brent;
But now ye’ve turned bald, John, your locks are like
the snow,
My blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson
my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John, we’ve 'een our bairn’s
bairns;
And yet, my dear John Anderson, I’m happy in
your arms;
And sae are ye in mine John, I’m sure ye’ll ne’er
sae no,
Tho’ the days are past that we have seen, John An-
derson my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John, frae year to year we’ve
past;
And soon that year may come, John, that will bring
us to our last;
But let not that affright us, John, our hearts were
ne’er our foe,
While in innocent delight we’ve liv’d, John Ander-
son ray jo.
John Andersen any jo, John, we've climb’d 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 we’ll sleep thegither at the fit, John Anderson
my jo.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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