A red red rose. Robert Burns.


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 […]

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