Happy Birthday, Ranting, Roving Robin

[f4f3]

Green Grow the Rashes (song)

Chor.—Green grow the rashes, O; 
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, 
An’ ’twere na for the lasses, O. 
Green grow, &c.

The war’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. 
Green grow, &c.

But gie me a cannie hour at e’en, 
My arms about my dearie, O; 
An’ war’ly cares, an’ war’ly men, 
May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O! 
Green grow, &c.

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. 
Green grow, &c.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears 
Her noblest work she classes, O: 
Her prentice han’ she try’d on man, 
An’ then she made the lasses, O. 
Green grow, &c. 

Comments

[meredyth-13.livejournal.com]

Happy Burns Night, dear.