Gow's Fareweel to Whiskey/John Anderson, My Jo
For other versions of this poem, see John Anderson My Jo.
JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquaint,Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent;But now your brow is bald. 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, But hand in hand we’ll goAnd sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
FINIS.