A RED, RED ROSE

Author: Robert Burns

O my luve's like a red, red rose. 
That's newly sprung in June; 
O my luve's like a melodie 
That's sweetly played in tune. 

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

Till a'the seas gang dry, my Dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 
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 a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!