O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
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That's newly sprung in June:
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O my Luve's like the melodie,
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That's sweetly play'd in tune.
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As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
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So deep in luve am I;
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And I will luve thee still, my dear,
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Till a' the seas gang dry.
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Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
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And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
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And I will luve thee still, my dear,
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While the sands o' life shall run.
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And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
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And fare-thee-weel, a while!
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And I will come again, my Luve,
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Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!
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A Red, Red Rose
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| Andy M. Stewart |
