0, my luve is like a red, red rose,
that's newly sprung in June.
0, my love is like a melodie,
that's sweetly play'd in tune.
As 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 love.
Tho it were ten thousand mile!
