O my Luve is like a red, red rose
 That's newly sprung in June;
 O my Luve is like the melody
 That's sweetly played in tune.

So 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 sand o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
 And fare thee weel awhile!
 And I will come again, my Luve,
 Though it were ten thousand mile.