rose painted red

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 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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