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!