Quote #24
Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent among the lasses, O.
More from Robert Burns
- Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses, O.
- Some books are lies frae end to end.
- There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An' then she made the lasses, O.
- I was na fou, but just had plenty.
- An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended.
- John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all.
- I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing: But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!
- The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.