And say the same o’ thee,
Ne’er fret to hear it tauld, Jean,
You still look young to me;
And weel I mind the day, Jean,
Your breast was white as snow,
An waist sae jimp one might it span,
Jean Anderson, my jo.
Our bonnie bairns’ bairns, Jean,
Wi’ rapture do I see,
Come todlin’ to the fireside,