O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly [bad word] in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd 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 a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life [bad word] 

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I [bad word] again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.