Green Grow from Burnout by stringjammer

There’s nought but thought in ev’ry word
In ev’ry hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o’ man
An ‘twere na for the lasses, O
Ch

Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses O.

The warly race may riches chase
And rices yet may fly them, O
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.

But gie me a canny hour at e’en
My arms about my dearie, O
An’ warly cares and’ warly fears,
May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O

For you sae douce ye sneer at this
Ye’re nought but senseless asses O
The wisest man the world e’er saw
He dearly love’d the lasses O

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes O;
Her prentice han’ she tried on man,
An’ then she made the lasses O

• Burns
• Folk
• Scottish
• World
• alt folktronica
• folk pop
• romantic
• Edinburgh