O, MY LUVE'S LIKE 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 played in tune.


As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

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,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.


ROBERT BURNS.

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