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!