a red，red rose

a red，red rose
robert burns

o my luve's like a red,red rose
that's newly spring in june;
o my luve's like the melodie
that's sweetly play'd tune.
as 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.
till a'the seas gang dry,my dear,
and the rocks melt wi'the sun;
o i will luve thee still, my dear,
while the sands o'life shall run.
and fare thee week,my onlu luve!
and fare thee awhile!
and i will come again,my luve,
tho'it were ten thousand mile.