A Red,
Red Rose

<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 plaied in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
   So deep in love 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;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
   While the sands o'life shall run.

And fare thee weel, mv only luve!
   And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Iuve,
   Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

- - - Robert Burns

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