Thursday, April 07, 2016

Another poem

Another poem for poetry month:

Robert Burns. 1759–1796
  
John Anderson, my Jo
  
JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
  When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
  Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,         5
  Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
  John Anderson, my jo!
John Anderson, my jo, John,
  We clamb the hill thegither;  10
And monie a canty day, John,
  We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
  But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,  15
  John Anderson, my jo.
Anyone who has been married for a long time will get this one:

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