A Red, Red Rose
O My luves* like a red, red rose,
Thats newly sprung in June;
O my luves like the melodie,
Thats sweetly playd 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!
By Robert Burns