Robert Burns
YouTubeThere's naught but care on every hand
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life of man
If it were not for the lasses, O
Green grow the rushes, O
Green grow the rushes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent among the lasses, 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 ne'er enjoy them, O
Give me a cannie hour at e'en
My arms arout my dearie, O
And worldly cares and worldly men
May all go toppselturvie, O
For you see though you sneer at this
You're nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest man the world e'er saw
He dearly loved the lasses, O
Old nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her 'prentice hand she tried on man
And then she made the lasses, O
