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A 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 played in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie 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;
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,
     Though it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns