Page:Mill o' Tiftie's Annie, or, Andrew Lammie, the trumpeter of Fyvie (2).pdf/4



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Her mother call'd her to the door, “Come here to me my Annie; Did you ever see a prettier man Than this Trumpeter of Fyvie?”

She sighed sore, but said no more, Alas! for bonnie Annie; She durst not own her heart was won By the Trumpeter of Fyvie.

At night, when they went to their bed, All slept full sound but Annie; Love so opprest her tender breast, Thinking on Andrew Lammie.

"Love comes in at my bed-side,            And love lies down beyond me;           Love has possessed my tender breast,             And love will waste my body.

“The first time I and my love met, Was in the woods of Fyvie; His lovely form and speech so sweet, Soon gain'd the heart of Annie.

“He called me mistress, I said No, I'm Tiftie's bonnie Annie; With apples sweet he did me treat, And kisses soft and many.

“It's up and down in Tiftie's den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny, I've often gone to meet my love, My bonnie Andrew Lammie."

But now, alas! her father heard That the Trumpeter of Fyvie, Had had the art to gain the heart Of Tiſtie's bonnie Annie.