Green Grow the Rashes, O Songtext
von Ewan MacColl

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

Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e′er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.

The war'ly 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 the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e′er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.


But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' war′ly cares an′ war'ly men
May a′ gae tapsalteerie, O!

Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
Ye′re nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' e′er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han′ she try′d on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.


Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e′er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.