Green Grow the Rashes
Gree grew the rashes, O (or "Green grew the rashes, O") is a poem bi Robert Burns, aboot the rashes an their beauty o whit he wis amoureus (in luv).
Lyrics
eeditGree Grow The Rashes, O
Owerwird
- Gree grew the rashes, O;
- Gree grew the rashes, O;
- The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
- Are spent among the lasses, O.
- 1.
- There's nocht but care on ev'ry han',
- In every oor that passes, O:
- What signifies the life o' man,
- An' 'twere nae for the lasses, O.
- 2.
- The war'ly race may riches chase,
- An' riches still may fly thaim, O;
- An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
- Their hearts can ne'er enjoy thaim, O.
- 3.
- But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
- Ma airms aboot my dearie, O,
- An' war'ly cares an' war'ly men
- May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
- 4.
- For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
- Ye're nocht but senseless asses, O;
- The wisest man the warld e'er saw,
- He dearly lo'ed the lasses, O.
- 5.
- Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
- Her noblest wark she classes, O:
- Her prentice han' she trie'd on man,
- An' then she made the lasses, O.
Sangers
eeditThis song is sung bi Ewan MacColl in a greit version, an aloot o ither singers, even in ither leids.
External links
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