Three Songs , opus 12

Wilt thou be my dearie?
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
 ...  wilt thou let me chear thee?
By the treasure of my soul —
That's the love I bear thee —
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie !
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie !

Lassie, say thou lo'es me,
Or if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me !
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me !
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me!

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds,
And I'm sae weary fu' o' care?
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
That warbles on the flowry thorn,
Ye mind me o' departed joys.
Departed never to return.

Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
By morning and by evening shine
To hear the birds sing o' their loves
As fondly once I sang o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I stretch'd my hand
And pu'd a rosebud from the tree.
But my fause lover stole the rose,
And left the thorn wi' me.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose 
  That's newly sprung in June: 
O my Luve is like the melodie 
  That's sweetly play'd 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 a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
  Tho' it were ten thousand mile.