Green Grow the Rashes, O.

The warldly race may riches chase.
And riches still may flee them, O;
An' though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow, &c.

Gi'e me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warldly cares an' warldly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie,¹ O.
Green grow, &c.

For you sae douce, wha sneer at this.
Ye're noucht but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warld e'er saw
He dearly lo'ed the lasses. O.
Green grow, &c.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dear,
Her noblest work surpasses, O;
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
An then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.