Page:Trade o' langsyne, or, The mechanic's farewell.pdf/5



John Anderson my jo, John, I wonder what you

mean,

To rise sae early in the morn, and sit sae late at e’en;

Yell blear out a’ your e’en John, and why shou’d ye

do so?

Gang sooner to your bed at e’en, John Anderson,

my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John, ye were my first con-

ceit,

Ye need na think it strange, John, tho’ I lo’e you

ear’ and late;

They sae yere turnin auld, John, I scarce believe

it’s so,

For I think ye’re ay the same to me, John Ander-

son my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John, when we were first ac-

quaint,

Your locks were like the raven, John, your bonny

brow was brent;

But now ye’ve turned bald, John, your locks are like

the snow,

My blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson

my jo.