Two hundred and fifty years ago today Robert Burns was born. His works are known and appreciated world wide. One of my favourite Burns songs is below and my thanks to a dear grandmother for my introduction to the man and his music. What an insight, for a young man, he had into the progress of life and love.
John Anderson, My Jo
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent;
Your locks were like the raven,
When we were first acquent;
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
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,
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,
Now we maun totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
Robert Burns 1789
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5 comments:
And i thought you were into RnB, naws that is a good burns song that. I might up load it onto my Ipod.
Make sure it's a good singer won't you. Even as a wee girl I found this particular one to be the epitome of Scottish folk music.
Those were the days! Now we have the Chillie Peppers and a lot of rappers in kilts :-)
Those were the days! Now we have the Chillie Peppers and a lot of rappers in kilts :-)
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Thats the stuff baby
The bawdy version:
John Anderson, my jo, John,
I wonder what ye mean,
To lie sae lang i' the mornin',
And sit sae late at e'en?
Ye'll bleer a' your een', John,
And why do ye so?
Come sooner to your bed at e'en,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When first that ye began,
Ye had as good a tail trees,
As ony ither man;
But now its waxen wan', John,
And wrinkles to and fro;
I've twa gae ups for ane gae down,
John Anderson, my jo.
I'm backit' like a salmon,
I'm breastit like a swan;
My wameit is a down cod
My middle ye may span:
Frae my tap knot to my tae, John,
I'm like the new-fa'n snow;
And it's a' for your convenience,
John Anderson, my jo.
O it is a fine thing
To keep out o'er the dyke ;
But it's a meikle finer thing,
To see your hurdies fyke;
To see your hurdies fyke, John,
And hit the rising blow;
It's then I like your chanter-pipe,
John Anderson, my jo.
When ye come on before, John,
See that ye do your best;
When ye begin to haud me,
See that ye grip me fast;
See that ye grip me fast, John,
Until that I cry `Oh!'
Your back shall crack or I do that,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
Ye're welcome when ye please;
It's either in the warm bed
Or else aboon the claes:
Or ye shall hae the horns, John,
Upon your head to grow;
An' that's the cuckold's malison,
John Anderson, my jo.
Scunnert, just superb! I'm going to pin it on the fridge door. Doubt if it'll be understood though because the only Scots he knows is 'aye' but I'm sure the message will be received.
Also going to email it to some friends who'll appreciate the thought that's gone into the composition.
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