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My Glove is like a Emred, red rose
That's Cnewly sprung in DJuneD7;
My Glove is like a Emmelody
So Csweetly Dplay'D7d iGn tune
GAs fair art thou, my Cbonnie Glad,
So deep in Clove am DI;D7
And GI will Bmlove thee Cstill, my Gdear,
Though Call the Dseas gone Gdry.
Though Gall the seas gone Emdry, my dear,
And the Crocks melt with the Dsun;D7
GI will love thee Emstill my dear,
Though the Csands o' DlifeD7 shalGl run.
GSo fare-thee-weel, my Conly Glove!
And fare-thee-Cweel aDwhilD7e!
And GI will Bmcome to Cyou aGgain,
Though it Cwere ten Dthousand Gmiles!
Though it Gwere ten thousand Emmiles, my dear
Though it Cwere ten thousand DmilesD7.
GI will come to Emyou again.
Though it Cwere ten DthoD7usanGd miles
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