My Luve's Like A Red, Red Rose

Tune--"_Graham's Strathspey._"

[Some editors have pleased themselves with tracing the sentiments of
this song in certain street ballads: it resembles them as much as a
sour sloe resembles a drop-ripe damson.]

I.
    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.
II.
    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.
III.
    '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.
IV.
    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.