This moring I picked a rose for my wife, and I recited Burns' Poem to her from the heart. I got stuck at the line as fair art thou my bonie lass and could not go on. Bonie lass is so scottish, and so full of terms of endearment. I nearly got a kiss for trying though.
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 bonie 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!
O I will luve thee still, my Dear
While the sands o' life shall run
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