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!