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!