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　　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! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns