Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/137

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The wardly race may riches chace,
And riches still may flee them, O;
And tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O,
Green grow, &c.

Gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my deary, O,
And warldly cares, and warldly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
Green grow, &c.

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 lo'ed the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely Dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her prentice-han' she try'd on man,
And then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.

 

Divider from 'The Beauties of Burn's Poems' a chapbook printed in Falkirk in 1819

 

SONG,

Tune—Corn-Rigs are bonny.

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn-rigs are bonny,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light
I held awa to Annie: