Red Red Rose - Robert Burns

Robert Rurns

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: 
And 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’ 'twere ten thousand mile!