A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
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 played 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!
O I will love 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’ it were ten thousand mile!
Well, is that not sad? Romantic ...but sad! What do you think?
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