A RED, RED ROSE

By Robert Burns

O MY Luve’s like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June:

O my Luve’s like the melodie

That’s sweetly play’d in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I:

And I will luve 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.