A Red,Red Rose
by Robert Burns
O my luve's like a red,red rose
That'newly sprung in June:
O my sweetly play'd in tune!
As fair art thou,my bonnie 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;
I will luve thee still,my dear,
While the sand o'life shall run.
And fare thee weel,my only luve,
And fare thee a while!
And I will come again,my luve,
Tho'it were ten thousand mile.
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