A Red Red Rose.
O MY luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June :
O my luve’s like a melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art though, 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 love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
A 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.
Transcribed from The Works of Robert Burns,; with an account of his life, and a criticism on his writings. To which are prefixed, some observations on the character and condition of the Scottish peasantry. In four volumes. Vol. II. The Second Edition. London: Printed for T. Cadell, Jun. and W. Davies, Strand; and W. Creech, Edinburgh. 1801. Printed by R. Noble in the Old Bailey [467 pages] p. 343.
Thanks for the link Paula. 
