ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

Available for over a year

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 the gither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, And hand in hand we'll go, And sleep the gither at the foot, John Anderson, my Jo.