Green Grow the Rushes-O


Green grow the rushes-O,
Green grow the rushes-O,
The sweetest bed that e'er I got
Was the bellies of the lassies O

In sober hours I am a priest,
A hero when I'm tipsy O,
But I'm a king and everything
When with a wanton gipsy O

Green grow the rushes-O,
Green grow the rushes-O,
The sweetest bed that e'er I got
Was the bellies of the lassies O

We're all dry with drinking o't,
We're all dry with drinking o't,
The parson kissed the fiddler's wife
And he couldna preach for thinking o't.

Green grow the rushes-O,
Green grow the rushes-O,
The sweetest bed that e'er I got
Was the bellies of the lassies O

The down bed, the feather bed,
The bed among the rushes O,
Yet all the beds is not so soft
As the bellies of the lassies O

Green grow the rushes-O,
Green grow the rushes-O,
The sweetest bed that e'er I got
Was the bellies of the lassies O

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