Page:Robert Burn's (sic) song-book.pdf/4

 The warly race may riches chase.

and riches still may fly then, O;

But tho' at last they catch them fast,

Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

Green grow, &c.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en

my arms about my dearie, O;

And war’ly, cares and warly men,

May a' gae tapsalterie, O;

Green grow, &c.

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this,

ye'er nought but senseless asses, O!

The wisest man the warl', e'er saw,

he dearly lo’ed the lasses, O.

Green grow,&c

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears

her roblest work she classes, O:

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,

and then she made the lasses, O. Jud

Green grow, &c.

Behind yon hill where Lugar flows,

'mang moors an' mosses many O,

The wintry sun the day has closed,

and I'll awa to Nannie, O.

The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill;

the night's baith mirk and rainy, O:

But I'll get my plaid and ont I'll steal,

an' o'er the hills to Nannie. O.