ROBERT BURNS

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither ; 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,

John Anderson, my jo.

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��498. The Banks o' T)oon

E flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird, That sings upon the bough ;

Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird, That sings beside thy mate ;

For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wistna o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, To see the woodbine twine;

And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose

Upon a morn in June ; And sae I flourished on the morn,

And sae was pu'd or* noon. 497. canty] cheerful. 498. or'] ere.

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