Red, Red Rose |
Robert Burns, 1794
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.
2. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, | 3. 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.
4. And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve! |