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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.
