The braes of Ballochmyle

The Catrine woods were yellow seen,

The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea;

Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,

But Nature sicken'd on the e'e;

Thro' faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while,

And ay the wild-wood echoes rang: —

“Fareweel the braes of Ballochmyle.

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,

Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair;

Ye birdies dumb, in with'ring bowers,

Again ye'll charm the vocal air.

But here, alas! for me nae mair

Shall birdie charm, or flowret smile:

Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr!

Fareweel! fareweel sweet Ballochmyle!”