It is 25th January 2012, marking the annual celebration of the life and birth of Scotland's National Poet, the lyrically brilliant word-smith Robert Burns.
Although I am not Scottish, like many Brits and people all over the world, I do have an extremely high regard for the poetry of Robert Burns. It is hard to pinpoint exactly what I love about Burns' work, seeing as it is something I have enjoyed since I was young, and never had to really analyse. One of my favourite aspects is his great command of rhythm, the lyrical nature of his work, alongside the use of Scottish dialect - which is why one of the best ways to enjoy his work is to listen to it recited.
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 beld, 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.