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Tho' the days are gane that we have seen, John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John, What pleasure does it gi'e,                  To see sae mony sprouts, John, Grow up 'tween you and me; And ilka lad and lass, John, In our footsteps to go, Makes perfect heaven here on earth, John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquaint, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now you're turned bald, John, Your locks are like the snow, Yet blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John, Frae year to year we've past. And soon that year maun come, John, Will bring us to our last; But let nae that affright us, John, Our hearts were ne'er our foe, While in innocent delight we liv'd,                    John Anderson, my jo.