Sunday, June 19, 2011

A Red, Red Rose - by Robert Burns

Oh my luve is like a red, red rose, 
That's newly sprung in June: 
Oh my luve is 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' it were ten thousand mile! 

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