A Red, Red Rose

O my luve is like a red, red rose

That's newly sprung in June;

O my luve's like the melodie

That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonny 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 love,

And fare thee weel, awhile!

And I will come again, my love

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

-Robert Burns-