by Robert Burns
O, my love is like a red, red rose, That is newly sprung in June. O, my love is like the melody, That is sweetly played in tune. As fair are you, my lovely lass, So deep in love am I, And I will love you still, my Dear, Till all the seas go dry. Till all the seas go dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt with the sun! O I will love you still, my Dear, While the sands of life shall run. And fare you well, my only Love, And fare you well a while! And I will come again, my Love, Although it were ten thousand mile!