The Braes o' Ballochmyle

The Catrine woods were yellow seen,The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee,Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,But nature sicken'd on the ee.Thro' faded groves Maria sang,Hersel in beauty's bloom the whyle,And aye the wild-wood echoes rang,Fareweel the braes o' 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 mairShall birdie charm, or floweret smile;Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr,Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Ballochmyle.