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BURNS' SONGS.


Green grows the Rashes, O.

CHORUS.
Green grew the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O!

There's neught but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An 'twerna for the lasses, O.

The warly race may richies 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 cauny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
And 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 warl' e'er say,
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.