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A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

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: 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 awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.




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