Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Pocket songster, or, Caledonian warbler

Oil, CALEDONIA:^ WARBLIilR. 225 i
John Anderson, my jo, John, when we were first |
acquaint,
Your locks were like the raven, your bonnj' brow ;
was brent, i
But now your head's turn'd bald, John, your locks >
are hke the snow, ;
Yet blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson,
my jo. * l
,1
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 letna that affright us, John, our hearts were I
ne'er our foe, \
While in innocent deii<iht we liv«d, John Anderson, i
my JO. I
John Anderson, my jo, John, we clamb the hill ;
thegither,
And mony a canty day, John, we've had wi ane i
anither ; |
Now we maun totter 4ownj John, but hand in hand |
we'll go, I
And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John Ander- ^
son, my jo. Burns- }
THE WANDERING BARD.
Chill the wmtry winds were blow ing.
Foul the murky night was snowing,
Through the storm the Minstrel, bowing,
Sought the Inn on yonder moor.