The war’ly race may riches chase.
and riches still may fly them, 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 war’ly 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 noblest work she classes, O:
Her ’prentice ban’ she tried on man,
and then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.
My Nannie, O.
Behind yon hill where Lugar flows,
’mang moors an’ mosses many O,
The wintry sun the day has closed,
and I’ll aw'a 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 out I’ll steal,
an’ o’er the hills to Nannie, O.
