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John Anderson, my jo.
PARTLY BURNS'S.
John Andersen my jo, John,
I wonder what you mean,
To rise sae early in the morn,
And sit so late at e'en;
Ye'll blear out a' your e'en, John,
And why should you do so?
Gang sooner to your bed at e'en,
John Anderson my jo.
I wonder what you mean,
To rise sae early in the morn,
And sit so late at e'en;
Ye'll blear out a' your e'en, John,
And why should you do so?
Gang sooner to your bed at e'en,
John Anderson my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John,
When Nature first began
To try her canny han', John,
Her master-piece was man;
And you amang them a', John,
Sae trig from top to toe,—
She proved to be nae journeyman,
John Anderson, my jo.
When Nature first began
To try her canny han', John,
Her master-piece was man;
And you amang them a', John,
Sae trig from top to toe,—
She proved to be nae journeyman,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John,
Ye were my first conceit,
And ye needna think it strange, John,
That I ca' ye trim an' neat;
Though some folks say ye're auld, John,
I never think ye so,
But I think ye're aye the same to me,
John Anderson my jo.
Ye were my first conceit,
And ye needna think it strange, John,
That I ca' ye trim an' neat;
Though some folks say ye're auld, John,
I never think ye so,
But I think ye're aye the same to me,
John Anderson my jo.
