The Clear Winding Ayr

Source: Where The Linnets Sings (2026)

Location: Track 19

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In green Caledonia there were ne’er were two lovers 

So enraptured and happy in each other’s arms,

As Burns, the sweet bard, and his ain Highland Mary,

As fondly and sweetly he sang of her charms.

And long may his song, so enchanting and bonnie

Be heard with delight on his ain native plains,

And long may the fame of his dear Highland lassie

Be faithful to love in such heart-rending strains.

Oh, it was a May day and the flowers of the summer

Were blooming in wildness all, lovely and fair

When these two lovers met in a grove of green bowers,

Which grew on the banks of the cool, winding Ayr.

And oh, to them both ’twas a meeting full tender,

For it was the last for a while they could hae,

And in love’s purest raptures they feasted together

Till the red setting sun told the close of the day.

‘Oh Mary, fond Mary’, exclaimed her true lover,

‘You carry this heart to the highlands with thee.

Every bush, every burn, every bank and green bower

Shall tell of the love of my Mary and me.

My life’s fondest treasure, my ain Highland lassie, 

Forever your Burns will be constant and true,

For the heart that is beating so hard in this bosom 

Is a heart that can never love any but you.

‘Oh, dinny bide long in the Highlands, my Mary,

Oh, dinny bide long in the Highlands fae me,

For I love thee sincerely, I love thee o’er dearly

To be happy for long, my dear Mary from thee.’

‘I will nae bide long, in the Highlands, my laddie,

I will nae bide long, for you will nae be there.

For altho’ I have friends I love well in the Highlands,

The ane I love best’s on the cool, winding Ayr!’

Then he kissed her fond lips that were redder than roses,

And he strained her lily-white breast to his heart.

And the tears fell like dew-drops at e’en o’er her bosom,

And he said ‘My fond fond lover, alas we must part.’

‘Then farewell’ cried Burns and he flew from her arms;

And ‘Farewell’ said Mary, she could nae say mair.

Oh, ’twas little they kenned that they’d parted forever,

When they parted that night by the banks of the Ayr.

But that green summer saw but a few sunny hours

When she in the bloom of her beauty and pride

Was laid in the grave like a lovely young flower

In cold Greenock Kirkyard, on the banks of the Clyde.

And Burns the sweet bard of his own Caledonia

Lamented his Mary with many a sad strain,

And sore did he mourn for his ain Highland lassie,

And never did his heart love so deeply again.

Then bring me the roses and bring me the lilies,

And bring me the daisies that grow on yon dale. 

Bring me the calm of a fine summer’s evening,

And bring me the breath of a sweet-scented gale.

Oh, bring me the sigh of a fond lover’s bosom,

And bring me the tear of a true lover’s ee,

And I’ll pour them all down o’er your grave, Highland Mary,

For the sake of thy Burns who so dearly loved thee.

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