That's newly sprung in June.
O,my luve is 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 the seas gang dry,my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
And I will luve thee still,my dear,
While sands 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!
Robert Burns (1759-1796)
