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 e’e.Thro’ faded groves Maria sang,Hersel’ in beauty’s bloom the while;And aye the wild-wood ehoes 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!