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But now your brow is bald, John,
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,
And mony 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.


JHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,
Wi’ mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning,
I left the lines and tented field,

Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,

A poor but honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder ;
And for fair Scotia, hame again,

I cheerily did wander..
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile

That pleased my youthful fancy.

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Wi' alter'd voice quoth I, “Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, Oh, happy, happy may he be

That's dearest to thy bosom!
My purse is light, I've far to gang,

And fain wad be thy lodger ;
I've served my king and country lang, -

Take pity on a sodger."

Sae wistfully she gazed on me,

And lovelier was than ever :
Quo' she, “A sodger ance I lo'ed,

Forget him shall I never ;
Our humble cot and hamely fare

Ye freely shall partake o't;
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't !”

She gazed—she redden'd like a rose

Syne pale like ony lily!
She sank within my arms, and cried,

“ Art thou my ain dear Willie ?”
“By Him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man ; and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded.

“ The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted; Though poor in gear, we're rich in love ;

And mair, we'se ne'er be parted.”
Quo' she, “My grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithful sodger lad,

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly!”

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor ; But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honour.

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(CHARLES DIBDin was born in Southampton in the year 1745. He was intended for the Church, but his love of music caused him to relinquish all thoughts of the clerical profession. In 1762, he appeared on the boards of Richmond Theatre, but he did not excel as an actor, though his light dramatic pieces and musical compositions were eminently successful. His spirit-stirring sea-songs were very popular. For some time he enjoyed from Government a pension of 2001. a-year, but on a change of ministry he lost it. Such were his improvident habits, that, had it not been for his friends, who purchased for him an annuity, he would have been plunged in the direst poverty. He died in the year 1814.]

Co, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,

U 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me,
And it an't to a little I'll strike.


Though the tempest top-gallant masts smack smooth should

smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the deck, stow the yards, and bouse everything tight,

And under reefd foresail we'll scud :
Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft

To be taken for trifles aback;
For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack !
I heard our good chaplain palaver one day

About souls, heaven, mercy, and such ;
And, my timbers ! what lingo he'd coil and belay;
Why, 'twas just all as one as High Dutch ;

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