Friday's Flower

Morden Belle

Red, Red Rose

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;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fair thee weel, my only Luve,
And fair thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve.
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.