a red, red rose
    [hear red, red rose]
    o my luve's like a red, red rose,
    that's newly sprung in june:
    o my luve's like the melodie,
    that's sweetly play'd in tune.
    as fair art thou, my bonie 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 o' life shall run.
    and fare-thee-weel, my only luve!
    and fare-thee-weel, a while!
    and i will come again, my luve,
    tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!