Classic Poem

JOHN JAMESON, my jo John!
Ye're bonnie wee an' sma';
Your ee's the morning violet,
Wi' tremblin' dew an' a';
Your smile's the gowden simmersheen,
Wi' glintin' pearls aglow
Atween the posies o' your lips,
John Jameson, my jo!

Ye hae the faither's braidth o brow,
An' synes his look benign
Whiles he hings musin' ower the burn,
Wi' leestless hook an' line;
Ye hae the mither's mou' an' cheek
An' denty chin—but O!
It's maist ye're like your ain braw sel',
John Jameson, my jo!

John Jameson, my jo John,
Though, wi' sic luvers twain,
Ye dance far yont your whustlin' frien'
Wha laggart walks his lane,—
Be mindet, though he naps his last
Whaur kirkyird thistles grow,
His ghaist shall caper on wi' you,
John Jameson, my jo!