O my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O myluve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie la**,
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 awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.