The Merry Muses of Caledonia/John Anderson my Jo
JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.
| This is the old song which Burns's purified version superseded. The first two lines of the last stanza occur in "Annie Laurie." |
John Anderson my jo, John,
I wonder what you mean,
To rise so soon in the morning,
And sit up so late at e'en?
You'll blear out all your een, John.
And why will you do so?
Come sooner to your bed at e'en,
John Anderson my jo.
John Anderson my friend, John,
When first you did begin,
You had as good a tail-tree
As ony ither man.
But now 'tis waxen auld, John,
And it waggles to and fro;
And it never stands its lane now,
John Anderson my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John,
You can f—k where'er you please,
Either in our warm bed,
Or else aboon the claise;
Or you shall have the horns, John,
Upon your head to grow;
That is a cuckold's malison,
John Anderson my jo.
So when you want to f—k, John,
See that you do your best,
When you begin to sh—g me,
See that you grip me fast;
See that you grip me fast, John,
Until that I cry Oh!
Your back shall crack, e'er I cry slack,
John Anderson my jo.
Oh! but it is a fine thing
To keek out o'er the dyke.
But 'tis a muckle finer thing,
When I see your hurdies fyke;
When I see your hurdies fyke, John,
And wriggle to and fro;
'Tis then I like your chaunter-pipe,
John Anderson my jo.
I'm backit like a salmon,
I'm breasted like a swan,
My wame it is a down cod,
My middle you may span;
From my crown until my tae, John,
I'm like the new-fa'n snow;
And 'tis a' for your conveniency,
John Anderson my jo.
