A Red, Red Rose

Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose 
That’s newly sprung in June; 
O my Luve is like the melody 
That’s sweetly played in tune. 

So 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 love thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o’ life shall run. 

And fare thee weel, my only luve! 
And fare thee weel awhile! 
And I will come again, my luve, 
Though it were ten thousand mile.