Merry Robbie Burns' Night to all!

Robert Burns was born on this day 1759. Poet-in-Residence will partake of the customary wee dram later today. Meanwhile here's a Burns' poem followed by a Poet-in-Residence attempted translation.

John Anderson My Jo

John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent;
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bony brow was brent;
But now your brow is bald, 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 the gither;
And mony a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go;
And sleep the gither at the foot,
John Anderson my Jo.

. . . . .

John Anderson My Dear

John Anderson my dear, John,
When we were first acquainted,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your handsome brow was high;
But now your brow is bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty head,
John Anderson my Dear.

John Anderson my dear, John,
We climbed the hill together;
And many a merry day, John,
We've had with one another:
Now we must totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go;
And sleep together at the foot,
John Anderson, my Dear.

______
Robert Burns (25 January 1759 - 21 July 1796)
Burns died of rheumatic heart disease at the age of 37. More than 10,000 people followed his coffin to the grave.