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   Song—A Red, Red Rose

       Robert Burns (1794)
 

 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 bonie 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!