JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.ByROBERT BURNS.John Anderson, my jo, John,When we were first acquent,Your locks were like the raven,Your bonnie brow was brentB;But now your head’s turned bald, John,Your locks are like the snow;But blessings on your frosty pow,John Anderson, my jo.John Anderson, my jo, John,We clamb the hill thegither;And mony a cantyCday, 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.BSmooth.CMerry.When thoughtful people sing these admirable verses, they are apt to long to hear of somethingbeyondthe foot of the hill. This want has been extremely well supplied by Mr. Charles Gould, of New York, in the followingverse:—John Anderson, my jo, John,When we have slept thegitherThe sleep that a’ maun sleep, John,We’ll wake wi’ ane anither:And in that better warld, John,Nae sorrow shall we know;Nor fear we e’er shall part again,John Anderson, my jo.
JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.ByROBERT BURNS.
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we were first acquent,Your locks were like the raven,Your bonnie brow was brentB;But now your head’s turned bald, John,Your locks are like the snow;But blessings on your frosty pow,John Anderson, my jo.John Anderson, my jo, John,We clamb the hill thegither;And mony a cantyCday, 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.
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we were first acquent,Your locks were like the raven,Your bonnie brow was brentB;But now your head’s turned bald, John,Your locks are like the snow;But blessings on your frosty pow,John Anderson, my jo.John Anderson, my jo, John,We clamb the hill thegither;And mony a cantyCday, 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.
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we were first acquent,Your locks were like the raven,Your bonnie brow was brentB;But now your head’s turned bald, John,Your locks are like the snow;But blessings on your frosty pow,John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brentB;
But now your head’s turned bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,We clamb the hill thegither;And mony a cantyCday, 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.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And mony a cantyCday, 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.
BSmooth.CMerry.
BSmooth.
CMerry.
When thoughtful people sing these admirable verses, they are apt to long to hear of somethingbeyondthe foot of the hill. This want has been extremely well supplied by Mr. Charles Gould, of New York, in the followingverse:—
When thoughtful people sing these admirable verses, they are apt to long to hear of somethingbeyondthe foot of the hill. This want has been extremely well supplied by Mr. Charles Gould, of New York, in the followingverse:—
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we have slept thegitherThe sleep that a’ maun sleep, John,We’ll wake wi’ ane anither:And in that better warld, John,Nae sorrow shall we know;Nor fear we e’er shall part again,John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we have slept thegitherThe sleep that a’ maun sleep, John,We’ll wake wi’ ane anither:And in that better warld, John,Nae sorrow shall we know;Nor fear we e’er shall part again,John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,When we have slept thegitherThe sleep that a’ maun sleep, John,We’ll wake wi’ ane anither:And in that better warld, John,Nae sorrow shall we know;Nor fear we e’er shall part again,John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we have slept thegither
The sleep that a’ maun sleep, John,
We’ll wake wi’ ane anither:
And in that better warld, John,
Nae sorrow shall we know;
Nor fear we e’er shall part again,
John Anderson, my jo.