Green Grow the Rashes, O by Robert Burns 1787

Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent
Are spent amang the lasses, O


There's nought but care on ev'ry han'
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life o' man
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O
The war'ly race may riches chase
An' riches still may fly them, O
An' tho' at last they catch them fast
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en
My arms about my Dearie, O
An' warly cares, an' warly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O
For you sae douse, ye sneer at this
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest Man the warl' e'er saw
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O
Auld Nature swears, the lovely Dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her prentice han' she try'd on man
An' then she made the lasses, O

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