A Red, Red Rose"
Robert Burns
O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June;
is like the melody veetly played in tune
So 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.
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 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' it were ten thousand mile.