John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnirow was brent;
But now your head's turn'd bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo,

John Anderson my jo, John,
When Nature first began
To try her cannie hand, John,
Her master-work was man;
And you amang them all, John,
Sae trig frae top to toe,
She proved to be nae journey-wark,
John Anderson my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John,
Ye were my first conceit,
And ye need na think it strange, John,
That I ca' ye trim and neat:
Though some folks say you're old, John,
I never think ye so,
But I think yon're aye the same to me,
John Anderson my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John,
We've seen our bairnie's bairns
And yet, my dear John Anderson
I'm happy in your arms;
And so are ye in mine, John—
I'm sure you'll ne'er say no,
Though the days are gane that ye have sees,
John Anderson my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John,
What pleasure does it gie
To see sae many sprouts, John,
Spring up 'tween you and me!
And ilka lad and lass, John,
In our footsteps to go,
Make perfect heaven here on earth,
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 net that affright us, John,
Our hearts were ne'er our foe,
While in innocent delight we lived,
John Anderson my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John,
We've clambed the hill togither,
And monie a cantie day, John,
We've had wi' ane anitoer,
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And we'll sleep togither at the foot,
John Anderson my jo.