A Red, Red Rose

O, my Luv's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luv's like a melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair as thou, 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 the till, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run:
And fare thee well, my only luve!
And fare thee will, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns (1759-1796)