Ellen More (1824, Edinburgh)/A red, red rose
For other versions of this work, see A red, red Rose (Burns).
A RED, RED ROSE.
O my luve's like a red, rose,
That's newly sprung in June,
O my love's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
As deep in love 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 snn,
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.