My Luve is like a Red Red Rose

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
My luve is like a melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

So fair thou art, 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:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.

And fare the weel, my only luve,
And fare the well awhile!
And I will come again, my luve.
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.