A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve is like a red, red roseThat's newly sprung in June;O my Luve is like the melodyThat's sweetly play'd 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.

Robert Burns (1794)