A Red, Red Rose Robert BurnsO my luve is like a red, red rose,That’s newly sprung in June;O my luve is like the melodieThat’s sweetly played in tune.As fair thou art , my bonie lasso,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 ,An the rocks melt wi’ the sun;And I will luve thee still , my dear,While the sands o’life shall run.And fare thee weel,my only luve,And fare thee weel awhile;And I will come again, my luve,tho’it were ten thousand mile!
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