Green are the rashes, O Green are the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent among the la**es, O There's nought but care on ev'ry han' In every hour that pa**es, O What signifies the life o' man In hands of la**es, 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 cannot enjoy them, O But give me cannie hour at night My arms about my dearie, O An' war'ly cares an' war'ly men May a' gae tapsalteerie, O For you sae douce, ye sneer at this Ye're nought but senseless a**es, O The wisest man the warl' e'er saw He dearly lov'd the la**es, O