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.