A RED, RED ROSE
By Robert Burns
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair thou art, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the sea gang dry, my dear,
And the rock melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o
