Robert Burns (1759-1796)
|
1 O my Luve's like a red, red rose, 2 That's newly sprung in June; 3 O my Luve's like the melodie 4 That's sweetly play'd in tune.
5 As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
9 Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
13 And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
|