red rose

My luv is like a red, red rose

     That’s newly sprung in June:

My luv is like the melody

     That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

     So deep in love am I:

And I will luv thee still, my dear,

     Til a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

     And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:

And I will luv thee still, my dear,

     While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love,

     And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my luv,

     Thou’ it were ten thousand mile.

              Robert Burns, 1794