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JOHN ANDERSON, MY JOE.

John Anderson, my joe, John,
when we were first acquaint,
Your locks were like the raven,
your bonny brow was brent;
But now you’re turned bald John,
your locks are like the snow,
Yet blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my joe.

John Anderson. my joe, John,
ye were my first conceit;
And ay at kirk and market.
I’ve kept you trim and neat;
There’s some folk says your failing, John,
but I scarce believe it’s so,
For you’re ay the same kind man to me,
John Anderson my Joe.

John Anderson, my joe, John,
we’ve seen our bairns’ bairns.
And yet, my dear John Anderson,
I’m happy in your arms;
And sae are ye in mine, John,
I'm sure ye’ll ne'er say no,
Tho’ the days are gane that we hae seen,
John Anderson, my joe.

John Anderson. my joe, John,
our siller ne’er was rise;