a Red Red Rose

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.