January 25: Robert Burns on P.O.E.T.S. Day

Today, January 25, is the birthday of Scottish poet Robert Burns.  I have a writer friend who called my up this morning, and we recited our favorite Burns' poems to each other.  My friend is going to a bookstore tonight to celebrate the great Scot.  His wife is wearing a kilt, and he, I'm sure, is wearing something plaid.

So, this P.O.E.T.S. Day, Saint Marty presents one of his favorite Robert Burns' poems.

Green Grow the Rashes

Green grow the rashes, O;
  Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
  Are spent amang the lasses, O!

There's nought but care on ev'ryhan',
  In ev'ry hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o' man,
  An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O;...

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

Green grow the rashes, O;...

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 the rashes, O;...

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
  Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' saw,
  He dearly loved the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O;...

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.

Green grow the rashes, O;...

Bobby doesn't look a day over 300