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　　Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr

　　Tune—“Roslin Castle.”

　　“I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”—R. B.

　　The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,

　　Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,

　　Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,

　　I see it driving o'er the plain;

　　The hunter now has left the moor.

　　The scatt'red coveys meet secure;

　　While here I wander, prest with care,

　　Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

　　The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn

　　By early Winter's ravage torn;

　　Across her placid, azure sky,

　　She sees the scowling tempest fly:

　　Chill runs my blood to hear it rave;

　　I think upon the stormy wave,

　　Where many a danger I must dare,

　　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! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns