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From Chaucer to Tennyson · Chapter 27John Anderson

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John Anderson, my jo,[181] John,

When we were first acquent,

Your locks were like the raven,

Your bonnie brow was brent;[182]

But now your brow is beld, John,

Your locks are like the snow;

But blessings on your frosty pow,

John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither;

And monie a canty[183] day, John,

We've had wi' are anither:

Now we maun totter down, John,

But hand in hand we'll go,

And sleep thegither at the foot,

John Anderson, my jo.

[181] Sweetheart. [182] Smooth [183] Merry.