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Green Grow the Rashes, O!

by Robert Burns

Robert Burns - Scottish Poet

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' 't were na for the lasses, O?

II
The warl'y 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.

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

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.

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.


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