stealing from mr. burns

My love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
My love has thorns and spines that stab
And leave the lover hewn.

As fair thou art, o love of mine,
So deep in love am I;
But never will you know, my dear,
Tho all the seas go dry

Tho all the seas go dry, my love,
I cannot make thee see
That what I'd like to be to thee
Is what thou still art to me.

So fare thee well, my own, my pet
Fare thee well a while.
I may find another yet
If I walk a thousand mile.