“John Anderson, my jo”

John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, 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 monie 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.