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.
