The Song Book No. 4/Green grow the Rashes, O

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see Green Grow the Rashes.

Green grow the Rashes, O.

Green grow the rashes O!green grow the rashes, O!The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,are spent amang the lasces, O!

There's nought but care on every han',in ev'ry hour that passes, O;What signifies the life o' man,and 'twere na for the lasses, O.Green grow, &c.

The war'ly race may riches chase,and riches still may fly them, O;But tho' at last they catch them fast,Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.Green grow, &c.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en,my arms about my dearie, O;And war'ly cares and war'ly men,May a' gae tapsalterie, O;Green grow, &c.

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this,ye'er 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 dearsher noblest work she classes, O:Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,and then she made the lasses, O.Green grow, &c.