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.--

As fair art thou, my bonie lass, 
So deep in luve am I; 
And I will love 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.--

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!

             ~Robert Burns