: A Day with the Poet Burns by Burns Robert Contributor Hardy Dudley Illustrator Haslehust E W Illustrator Neatby William James Illustrator - Burns Robert 1759-1796

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I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O. Green grow, etc.

The war'ly race may riches chase, And riches still may fly them, O; An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. Green grow, etc.

But gie me a cannie hour at e'en My arms about my dearie, O; An' war'ly cares, and war'ly men, May a' gae tapsalteerie, O! Green grow, etc.

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this; Ye're nought but senseless asses, O: The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Green grow, etc.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, O. Green grow, etc.

Sometimes a flower in the hedgerow opens out to him a new and exquisite signification.

My Luve is like a red red rose That's newly sprung in June; My Luve is like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, An' the rocks melt wi' the sun; And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve! And fare-thee-weel awhile! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!

O WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST.

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