Page:Old Scottish ballad of Andrew Lammie, or, Mill of Tifty's Annie (1).pdf/4

 It’s up and down in Tifty’s glen,

Where the burn rins clear and bonnie

I’ve often gane to meet 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 Mill of Tifty’s Annie.

Her father soon a letter wrote

And sent it on to Fyvie,

To tell his daughter was bewitched

By his servant Andrew Lammie.

Then up the stair his trumpeter

He called soon and shortly,

Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done

To Tifty’s bonnie Annie.

Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride,

For it has ruined many—

They’ll not have’t said that she should wed

The trumpeter of Fyvie.

In wicked art I had no part,

Nor therein am I canny;

True love alone the heart has won

Of Tifty’s bonnie Annie.

Where shall I find a boy so kind

That will carry a letter canny;

Who will run to Tifty’s town—

Give it to my love Annie.

Tifty he has daughters three

Who all are wonderous bonnie;

But ye’ll ken her o’er a’ the rest,

Give that to bonnie Annie.