January 25th is Burns Night, in which Scotland and Scotland lovers everywhere celebrate their Favourite Son, the Ploughman Poet, the Robden of Solway Firth, the Bard of Ayrshire: Robert Burns. He wrote “Auld Lang Syne,” that little ditty we mumble along to on New Years, the lyrics of which we’re not quite sure of. You might also recognize this one.
A Red, Red Rose
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 well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
– Robert Burns, 1759-1796