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 mair
shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
fareweel the bonie banks of ayr,
fareweel, fareweel! sweet ballochmyle!