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. Burns (New Version).

Auld Reikiel thou'rt the canty hole, A bield for mony a caldrife soul, What snugly at thine ingle loll, Baith warm and couth, While round they gar the bicker roll To weet their mouth.

For naught can cheer the heart sae weel As can a canty Highland reel; It even vivifies the heel To skip and dance: Lifeless is he wha canna feel Its influence.