Zondag

20

Mei

John Anderson, My Jo

John Anderson, my jo, John,  When we were first acquent;  Your locks were like the raven,  Your bonie 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 mony a cantie day, John,  We've had wi' ane anither:  Now we maun totter down, John,  And hand in hand we'll go,  And sleep thegither at the foot,  John Anderson, my jo.

Robert Burns