song—green grow the rashes
a fragment
chreen grow the rashes, o;
green grow the rashes, o;
the sweetest hours that e'er i spend,
are spent amang the sses, o.
there's nought but care on ev'ry han',
in ev'ry hour that passes, o:
what sighe life o' man,
an' 'twere na for the sses, o.
green gro;c.
the war'ly race may riches chase,
an' riches still may fly them, o;
an' tho' at st they catch them fast,
their hearts e'er enjoy them, o.
green gro;c.
but gie me a ie hour at e'en,
my arms about my dearie, o;
an' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men,
may a' gae tapsalteerie, o!
green gro;c.
for you sae douce, ye s this;
ye're nought but senseless asses, o:
the wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
he dearly lov'd the sses, o.
green gro;c.
auld nature swears, the lovely dears
her work she csses, o:
her prentice han' she try'd on man,
an' then she made the sses, o.
green gro;c.