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8
the red red rose.
O my luve is like a red red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve is like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And rocks melt i' the sun,
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life do run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
Aid I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
finis.
