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 bonie 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;
And 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' 'twere ten thousand mile!