John Anderson, My Jo - by Robert Burns

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 cantie 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.