A Red, Red Rose
BY ROBERT BURNS
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung inJune;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played intune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gangdry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ lifeshall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weelawhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were tenthousand mile.
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