O, my love is like a red, red rose,
That is newly [bad word] in June.
O, my love is like the melody,
That is sweetly played in tune.

As fair are you, my lovely lass,
So deep in love am I,
And I will love you still, my Dear,
Till all the seas go dry.

Till all the seas go dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt with the sun!
O I will love you still, my Dear,
While the sands of life [bad word] 

And fare you well, my only Love,
And fare you well a while!
And I [bad word] again, my Love,
Although it were ten thousand mile!

R. Burns