A Red Red Rose

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 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 luve thee still, my dear, 

While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee well, my only Luve

And fare thee well, a while! 

And I will come again, my Luve, 

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.