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The Romantic Movement

A Red, Red Rose

 
A Red, Red Rose
 
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played 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 shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

Bonnie Doon

 

 

"Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon"
 
YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,  
  How can ye bloom sae fair?  
How can ye chant, ye little birds,  
  And I sae fu' o' care?  
  
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird          5
  That sings upon the bough;  
Thou minds me o' the happy days  
  When my fause Luve was true.  
  
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird  
  That sings beside thy mate;   10
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,  
  And wist na o' my fate.  
  
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon  
  To see the woodbine twine:  
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,   15
  And sae did I o' mine.  
  
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,  
  Frae aff its thorny tree;  
And my fause Luver staw the rose  
  But left the thorn wi' me.   20