Explore "John Anderson, my Jo" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.