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!