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Chorus Green grow the rashes, O ; Green grow the rashes, O ; The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, Are spent amang the lasses, O. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In ev'ry hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man If 'twere na for the lasses, O. The warldly race may riches chase, And riches still may fly them, O; And tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. Gie me a canny hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O, And warldly cares, and warldly men May a' gae tapsalteerie, O ! For you sae douse, ye sneer at this ; Ye're nought but senseless asses O; The wisest man the warld saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O; Her prentice han' she tried on man, And then she made the lasses, O. (Chorus)
Glossary:
Canny = gentle
Tapsalteerie = topsy-turvy
Douse = sober, prudent
Composition:
- Set to music by (Franz) Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809), "Green grow the rashes", JHW XXXII/3 no. 218, Hob. XXXIa no. 8bis
Text Authorship:
- by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "Green grow the rashes, O"
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CZE Czech (Čeština) (Josef Václav Sládek) , "Ó sítin zelených"
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Les roseaux poussent verts, oh !", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2010-01-10
Line count: 26
Word count: 167
Refrain Les roseaux poussent verts, oh ! Les roseaux poussent verts, oh ! Les heures les plus douces que j'ai passées, Furent passées avec les filles, oh! Il n'y a que des soucis de tous côtés, Dans chaque heure qui passe, oh ! Que signifierait la vie d'un homme S'il n'y avait pas les filles, oh ! Les gens peuvent courir après les richesses, Et les richesses peuvent les fuir, oh ! Et même si au bout ils les attrapent fermement, Leurs cœurs ne peuvent jamais en jouir, oh ! Donnez-moi une heure fortunée le soir, Mes bras autour de ma bien-aimée, oh ! Et les soucis du monde, et les gens du monde Peuvent aller au diable, oh ! Car vous, si pondéré, vous ricanez de ça Vous n'êtes que des ânes écervelés, oh ! L'homme le plus avisé ayant vu le monde Aime tendrement les filles, oh ! Mère Nature jure qu'elle classe les charmantes chéries Comme son œuvre la plus noble, oh ! Elle s'est d'abord fait la main sur l'homme, Et ensuite elle a créé les filles,oh ! (Refrain)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Scottish (Scots) to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in Scottish (Scots) by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "Green grow the rashes, O"
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This text was added to the website: 2014-08-05
Line count: 26
Word count: 175