John Anderson

by Robert Burns

Tune--"_John Anderson, my jo._"

[Soon after the death of Burns, the very handsome Miscellanies of
Brash and Reid, of Glasgow, contained what was called an improved John
Anderson, from the pen of the Ayrshire bard; but, save the second
stanza, none of the new matter looked like his hand.

"John Anderson, my jo, John,
When nature first began
To try her cannie hand, John,
Her master-piece was man;
And you amang them a', John,
Sae trig frae tap to toe,
She proved to be nae journey-work,
John Anderson, my jo."]

I.

"John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie 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.

II.

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 go;
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.