A Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
  That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
  That’s sweetly played 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.