I walked past this fascinating old building recently without knowing what it was but I wanted to stop and take some photos of it! Having since done some research I now realise that it is Maybole Castle which is thought to be the oldest building in the town, being dated around 1560. It was one of the residences of the Earls of Cassillis (by coincidence, I visited another of those within the past two weeks, Dunure Castle, which was their first home). Today, Maybole Castle is apparently the headquarters of May-Tag Ltd, a company which provides training and tackles local unemployment. I think that's rather sad as I'd like to see this historic building open to the public. The antique architecture is beautiful and very interesting. I especially like the little oriel window with its ornate gable, and the round turrets. It's surprising that the castle isn't enclosed by grounds or gardens; the side is right next to the pavement of the main road! There's a tragic story I unearthed of a Countess who left her home and children to run off with a gypsy. He was found and hanged and she spent the rest of her days locked in a room at the top of the castle. I found this poem which tells the sad tale in the local dialect (I don't know who wrote it) which warns at the end that sin can blind the eye of the best and steal our innocent joy! The ladye o' Cassillis sits weeping alane, In her room in the auld castle high. And thinks o'the bricht happy days that were hers. But noo are for ever gane by, When she roamed through the woods and the fields sae green That sweep round the bonnie Doon, When maidens and vassals were a'at her beck, And the homage o' Mayhole toon.But the glamour o' wanton love cast its spell Over this high-born ladye,And she left her hoose and her bairns and a' To gang wi' a gypsy laddie. And here is the pitfu' end o' it, a' Her lover hanged on the Dule tree, While she is confined in this lanesome tower, Her life-lang weird to dree.0, easy it is to tak' a wrang step, And hard in the richt to abide, Bat wha shall undo the thing that is dune, When ance it has left oor side? Nae use for us then to sab and lament, We maun reap as we've sawnnae doot, It's easy to drap idle stanes in the well, But wha's to tak' them oot?The quaint oriel window still looks up the street, And we fancy that sad face we see, Lamenting for aye that ae fause step Which wrocht a' her misery. And this is the warning the auld story tells To ilka ane that gangs by- The glamour o' sin blins the een o' the best, And steals a' oor innocent joy. read more

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