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!