Green grow the rashes O!

Chorus

Green grow the rashes, O;

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent amang the lasses, O.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han',

In ev'ry hour that passes, O:

What signifies the life o' man

If 'twere na for the lasses, O.

The war'ly race may riches chase,

And riches still may fly them, O;

And tho' at last they catch them fast,

Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en,

My arms about my dearie, O,

An' war'ly cares, and war'ly men

May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;

Ye're nought but senseless asses O;

The wisest man the warld saw,

He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears

Her noblest work she classes, O;

Her prentice han' she tried on man,

And then she made the lasses, O.

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Chorus