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, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve 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 still, my dear,
While the sands o' shall run.

John Anderson, My Jo

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my Jo!

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And monie a cantie day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither;
Now we maun totter down, John,
And h-a-n-d in h-a-n-d we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my Jo!