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 love 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 love thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.-
And fare thee well, my only Luve!
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
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