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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-04-23 | | Submited by Marius Surleac
“A Red, Red Rose”
By Robert Burns “Oh my luve is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: Oh my luve is like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie 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; And I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel a while! And I will come again, my luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile!”
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