To John Ballantyne

While here I sit, sad and solitary by the side of a fire in a little country inn, and drying my wet clothes, in pops a poor fellow of sodger, and tells me he is going to Ayr. By heavens! say I to myself, with a tide of good spirits which the magic of that sound, Auld Toon o' Ayr, conjured up, I will sent my last song to Mr. Ballantyne. Here it is— Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care![166]