|
|
A Red, Red Rose (Robert Burns) , ( )
Oh my luve is like a red, red rose, — ,
That's newly sprung in June: .
Oh my luve is 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' it were ten thousand mile! .
| : | / |
