O My Luv was like a red red rose
'til she swelled like an autumn creek.
O my Luv was like the melodie
‘til the chords hit flat and weak.
As fair thou weret, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love was I.
And I would love thee still, my dear,
Had thee not turned old & wry;
Had thee not turned old & wry, poor dear.
And as the clouds shape forever last;
I will love thee still my dear
Until the morning stays the frost.
And fare thee weel, my distant love,
And fare thee weel forever!
And another love will come again, My Luve,
Like a lovely pluck'd feather.
