a red, red rose
[hear 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 play'd in tune.
as fair art thou, 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 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, a while!
and i will come again, my luve,
tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!