The poem A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns 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 thou art, 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 love 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! |