The Lasses

Robert Burns, the Scots poet and songwriter, was known for adapting old tunes; to reflect his time. In the same spirit, this is my adaptation of his song, "Green Grow the Rashes O'." It captures Burns' celebration and respect of women.

Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours I ever spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.

There's nought but care on every han',
In every hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.

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.

But give me a canny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warly cares an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this,
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the world saw,
He dearly loved the lasses, O.
Green grow, etc

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her apprentice hand she tried on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.

Green Grow The Rushes O'


Green grow the rushes, O;
Green grow the rushes, O;
The sweetest hours that I ever spend,
Are spent among the lassies, O.

There is nought but care on every hand,
In every hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life of man,
And it were not for the lassies, O.

The worldly race may riches chase,
And riches still may fly them, O;
And though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can never enjoy them, O.

But give me a quiet evening hour
My arms about my dearie, O,
And worldly cares and worldly men
May all go tapselteerie, O!

For you so grave, you sneer at this;
You are noubt but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the world saw,
Dearly loved the lassies, O.

Old Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her apprentice hand she tried on man,
And then she made the lassies, O.