Green grow the rashes o

Green grow the rashes

there’s nought but care on every hand
in every hour that passes, o
what signifies the worth of man
and ’twas na for the lasses, o

green grow the rashes, o
green grow the rashes, o
the sweetest hours that e’er I spent
were spent among the lasses, o

the worldy race may riches chase
and riches still may fly them, o
when last they catch them fast
their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, o

green grow the rashes, o
green grow the rashes, o
the sweetest hours that e’er I spent
were spent among the lasses, o

but gie me a canny hour at e’en
my arms about my dearie, o
and worldly cares, and worldly men
may all gae tapsalteerie, o

for you sae douse, ye sneer at this
you’re nought but senseless asses, o
the wisest man the world e’re saw
he dearly loved the lasses, o

old nature swears, the lovely dears
her noblest work she classes, o
her prentice hand she tried on man
and then she made the lasses, o

green grow the rashes, o
green grow the rashes, o
the sweetest hours that e’er I spent
were spent among the lasses, o

green grow the rashes, o
green grow the rashes, o
the sweetest hours that e’er I spent
were spent among the lasses, o

de-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
[etc.]

Burns wrote this lyric into his commonplace book in 1784-08. The following text is from the 1787 Edinburgh edition of Poems 1784-1785 (if I’ve interpreted Kinsley’s note correctly) :

Green grow the rashes

Green grow the rashes, o;
Green grow the rashes, o;
The sweetest hour that e’er I spend,
  Are spent among the lasses, o.

There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’,
  In ev’ry hour that passes, o:
What signifies for the life o’ man,
  An’ ’twere na for the lasses, o.

Green grow...

The warly race may riches chase,
  An’ riches still may fly them, o;
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,
  Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, o.

Green grow...

But gie me a canny hour at e’en,
  My arms about my Dearie, o;
An’ warly cares, an’ warly men,
  May a’ gae tapsalteerie, o!

Green grow...

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this,
  Ye’re nought but senseless asses, o:
The wisest Man the warl’ saw,
  He dearly lov’d the lasses, o.

Green grow...

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...

source : No.45 in Poems and songs of Robert Burns / edited by James Kinsley. – oxford : Clarendon Press, 1968

Both the sentiments and the tune pre-date Burns. In fact the idea of letting the world turn upside-down (go hang?) for sake of love features in some versions of Greensleeves (16th century), and the conceit that nature created the male whilst still an apprentice dates at least from Cupid’s whirligig of 1607, which was reprinted in a collection of 1738.