Hills o' Gallowa/Green Grow the Rashes, O
GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O.
Green grow the rashes, O,
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
I spent amang the lasses, O.
There's nought but care on every han',
In every hour that passes, O,
What signifies the life o' man,
And 'twerna for the lasses, O.
The warldly race may riches chase,
And riches still may flee, them, O,
And though 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,
And wardly cares and wardly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
For you sae douse who sneer at this,
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O,
The wisest man the warld e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
And Nature swears the lovely dears,
Her noblest work she classes, O,
Her prentice hand she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O.