far from the bonie banks of ayr.
'tis not the surging billow's roar,
'tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
tho' death in ev'ry shape appear,
the wretched have no more to fear:
but round my heart the ties are bound,
that heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
these bleed afresh, those ties i tear,
to leave the bonie banks of ayr.
farewell, old coila's hills and dales,
her healthy moors and winding vales;
the scenes where wretched fancy roves,
pursuing past, unhappy loves!
farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
my peace with these, my love with those:
the bursting tears my heart declare—
farewell, the bonie banks of ayr!