O
my luve's like a red, red rose.
That's
newly sprung in June;
O
my luve's like a melodie
That's
sweetly play'd in tune.
As
fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So
deep in luve am I;
And
I will love 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 weel my only Luve!
And
fare thee weel a while!
And
I will come again, my Luve,
Tho'
it were ten thousand mile!
