Nell (in his arms): Take me with you.
Burns: I’ll take you, Nell. It shall be our Parnassus Hill.
[He sings, and, in the repetitions, Nell with him.]
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve is like the melodie
That’s newly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,