Page:Andrew Lammie, or, Mill of Tiftie's Annie (1).pdf/6

 My father dear I pray forbear

and reproach no more your Annie,

For I'd rather hear that cow to low,

then have all the kine of Fyvie.

I wou'd not for my braw new gown,

and all your gift o many

That it were told in Fyvie's land,

how cruel you're to Annie.

But if ye strike me, I will cry,

and gentlemen will hear me,

Lord Fyvie be riding by,

and he'd come in and ee me.

At the ame time the Lord came in,

he aid what ails thee Annie,

'Tis all for love, now I mut die,

for bonny Andrew Lammie,

Pray Mill o' Tiftie give conent,

and let your daughter marry,

"It hall be with ome higher match,

"than the trumpeter of Fyvie."

If he were come of as high kind,

as he's adorn'd with beauty,

I would take her unto myelf,

and make her my own lady.

Fyvie's lands are fair and wide,

and they are rich and bonny,

I would not leave my own true love,

for all the lands of Fyvie,

Her father truck her wonderous ore,

as alo did her mother,