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271. Song—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.

Poem by Robert Burns
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