GREEN grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In ev'ry hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o' man,
An' twere na for the lasses, O?
Green grow, &c.
The warly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow, &c.
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warly cares, an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
Green grow, &c.
For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, Ye're nought but senseless asses, 0; The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.
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.
Green grow, &c.
NAE gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my Muse's care;
Their titles a' are empty show,
Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I set me down wi' right good will,
To sing my Highland lassie, O.
Oh, were yon hill and vallies mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland lassie, O.
But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while the crimson currents flow,
I'll love my Highland lassie, O.
Within, &c.
Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change;
For her bosom burns with honor's glow,
My faithful Highland lassie, O.
For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland lassie, O.
She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred truth and honor's band;
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O,
Farewell the glen sae bushy, O,
Farewell the plain sae rushy, 0:
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland lassie, O.
"Banks of Bana.”
YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast of mine
The raven locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew, in wilderness,
Rejoicing o'er his manna,
Was naething to my honey bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
Ye monarchs, take the east and west,
Frae Indus to Savannah;
Gie me within my straining grasp,
The melting form of Anna.
Then I'll despise imperial charms,
An empress or sultana;
While dying raptures, in her arms,
I give and take with Anna.
Awa, thou flaunting god of day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray
When I'm to meet my Anna.
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night!
Sun, moon, and stars, withdraw a'!
And bring an angel-pen to write
My transports wi' my Anna!
OLEEZE me on my spinning-wheel,
O leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll sit me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sin;
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal
O leeze me on my spinning-wheel.
On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot;
The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes' caller rest;
The sun blinks kindly in the biel,
Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel
On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the dolefu' tale;
The lintwhites, in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays:
The craik, amang the claver hay,
The paitrick, whirrin' o'er the ley,
The swallow, jinkin' round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.
Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
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