A Red, Red Rose
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A
Red, Red Rose
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 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;
And
I will luve 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'
'twere ten thousand mile!
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