Five songs , opus 13

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 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.

I'm wearin' awa', John,
Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
I'm wearin' awa'
   To the land o' the leal.
There's nae sorrow there, John,
There's neither cauld nor care, John,
The day is aye fair
   In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, John,
She was baith gude and fair, John,
And oh! we grudg'd her sair
   To the Land o' the leal.
But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
And joy's a-comin' fast, John,
The joy that's aye to last
   In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought
   To the land o' the leal.
Oh! dry your glist'ning e'e, John,
My saul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me
   To the land o' the leal.

Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,
Your day it's wearin' thro', John,
And I'll welcome you
   To the land o' the leal.
Now fare ye weel, my ain John,
This warld's cares are vain, John,
We'll meet, and we'll be fain,
   In the land o' the leal.

Love took me softly by the hand,
Love led me all the country o'er,
And showed me beauty in the land,
That I had never seen before
Never before, 
Never before,
O Love, sweet Love! sweet Love!

There was a glory in the morn,
There was a calmness in the night,
A mildness in the southwind borne,
That I have never felt aright
Never aright, 
Never aright,
O Love, sweet Love!

But now it cannot pass away,
I feel it wheresoe'er I go,
It cannot, cannot pass away,
I feel it wheresoe'er I go,
And in my heart by night and day
Its gladness moveth to and fro:
By night and day, 
By night and day,
O Love, sweet Love! O Love, sweet Love!

Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
  That never has known the barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin:
  Wait till you come to forty year.
 
Curly gold locks cover foolish brains;
  Billing and cooing is all your cheer -- 
Sighing, and singing of midnight strains,
Under Bonnybell's window panes:
  Wait till you come to forty year.
 
Forty times over let Michaelmas pass;
  Grizzling hair the brain doth clear;
Then you know a boy is an ass,
Then you know the worth of a lass,
  Once you have come to forty year.
 
Pledge me round; I bid ye declare,
  All good fellows whose beards are gray,
Did not the fairest of the fair
Common grow and wearisome ere
  Ever a month was pass'd away?
 
The reddest lips that ever have kiss'd,
  The brightest eyes that ever have shone,
May pray and whisper and we not list,
Or look away and never be miss'd,
  Ere yet ever a month is gone.
 
Gillian's dead! God rest her bier -- 
  How I loved her twenty years syne!
Marian's married; but I sit here,
Alone and merry at forty year,
  Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine.

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