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!”