Gow's Fareweel to Whiskey/John Anderson, My Jo

by Robert Burns

For other versions of this poem, see John Anderson My Jo.

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.

 

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John Anderson my jo, John,
 When we were first acquaint,
Your locks were like the raven,
 Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bald. 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 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.

 

FINIS.