Green Grow The Rashes, O!

By Robert Burns

[A fragment]

Chorus:
Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O.

I.

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?

(Chorus)

II.

The warl'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.

(Chorus)

III.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O:
An' warl'ly cares, an' warl'ly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.

(Chorus)

IV.

For you sae douce, 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.

(Chorus)

V.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.

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

Notes to the poem:

This is an improvement on an old Scotch song of much spirit, but more broad than it needed to be.