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O my Luve's like a red, red rose, |
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That's newly sprung in |
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June: O my |
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Luve's like the melodie, |
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That's sweetly play'd in tune. |
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As fair art thou, my bonie lass, |
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So deep in luve am |
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I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, |
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Till a' the seas gang dry. |
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Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, |
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And the rocks melt wi' the sun; |
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And I will luve thee still, my dear, |
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While the sands o' life shall run. |
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And fare-thee-weel, my only |
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Luve! And fare-thee-weel, a while! |
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And I will come again, my |
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Luve, Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile! |
