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Words To A Red, Red Rose Poem By Robert Burns

O my luve is 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.



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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' it were ten thousand mile.



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