Robert Burns – A Red, Red Rose (1796)

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like a melodie,
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As far art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’[ll] the seas gang [go] 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 awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile!