The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 8/Chapter 233

Andrew Lammie

 * At Mill o' Tifty liv'd a man,
 * In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
 * He had a lovely daughter fair,
 * Was called bonny Annie.


 * Her bloom was like the springing flower
 * That salutes the rosy morning,
 * With innocence and graceful mien
 * Her beauteous form adorning.


 * Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
 * Whose name was Andrew Lammie;
 * He had the art to gain the heart
 * Of Mill o' Tiftie’s Annie.


 * Proper he was, both young and gay,
 * His like was not in Fyvie,
 * No one was there that could compare
 * With this same Andrew Lammie.


 * Lord Fyvie he rode by the door
 * Where lived Tiftie’s Annie;
 * His trumpeter rode him before,
 * Even this same Andrew Lammie.


 * 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 all went to their beds,
 * 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 posses'd 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 bonny 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 bonny Andrew Lammie."


 * But now, alas! her father heard
 * That the trumpeter of Fyvie
 * Had had the art to gain the heart
 * Of Tiftie’s bonny Annie.


 * Her father soon a letter wrote,
 * And sent it on to Fyvie,
 * To tell his daughter was bewitch'd
 * By his servant, Andrew Lammie.


 * When Lord Fyvie had this letter read,
 * O dear! but he was sorry;
 * The bonniest lass in Fyvie's land
 * Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie


 * Then up the stair his trumpeter
 * He called soon and shortly:
 * "Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done
 * To Tiftie’s bonny Annie?"


 * "In wicked art I had no part,
 * Nor therein am I canny;
 * True love alone the heart has won
 * Of Tiftie’s bonnie Annie.


 * "Woe betide Mill o' Tiftie’s pride,
 * For it has ruin'd many;
 * He'll no ha'e 't said that she should wed
 * The Trumpeter of Fyvie.


 * "Where will I find a boy so kind
 * That'll carry a letter canny,
 * Who will run on to Tiftie’s town,
 * Give it to my love Annie?"


 * "Here you shall find a boy so kind,
 * Who'll carry a letter canny,
 * Who will run on to Tiftie’s town,
 * And gi'e 't to thy love Annie?"


 * "It's Tiftie he has daughters three
 * Who all are wondrous bonny;
 * But ye’ll ken her oer a’ the lave;
 * Gi'e that to bonny Annie."


 * "It’s up and down in Tiftie’s den,
 * Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
 * There wilt you come and meet thy love;
 * Thy bonnie Andrew Lammie."


 * "When wilt thou come, and I'll attend?
 * My love, I long to see thee."
 * "Thou may'st come to the bridge of Sleugh,
 * And there I’ll come and meet thee."


 * "My love, I go to Edinbro',
 * And for a while must leave thee;"
 * She sighed sore, and said no more
 * But "I wish that I were wi' thee"


 * "I’ll buy to thee a bridal gown,
 * My love, I’ll buy it bonny;"
 * "But I’ll be dead ere ye come back
 * To see your bonny Annie."


 * "If you’ll be true and constant too,
 * As my name's Andrew Lammie,
 * I shall thee wed when I come back
 * To see the lands of Fyvie."


 * "I will be true and constant too
 * To thee, my Andrew Lammie,
 * But my bridal bed will ere then be made
 * In the green churchyard of Fyvie."


 * "The time is gone, and now comes on,
 * My dear, that I must leave thee;
 * If longer here I should appear,
 * Mill o' Tiftie he would see me."


 * "I now for ever bid adieu
 * To thee, my Andrew Lammie;
 * Ere ye come back I will be laid
 * In the green churchyard of Fyvie."


 * He hied him to the head of the house,
 * To the house top of Fyvie;
 * He blew his trumpet loud and schill,
 * T'was heard at Mill o' Tiftie.


 * Her father lock'd the door at night,
 * Laid by the keys fu' canny,
 * And when he heard the trumpet sound
 * Said, "Your cow is lowing, Annie."


 * "My father dear, I pray forbear,
 * And reproach no more your Annie;
 * For I’d rather hear that cow to low
 * Than ha'e all the kine in Fyvie.


 * "I would not for my braw new gown,
 * And a' your gifts sae many,
 * That it were told in Fyvie's land
 * How cruel you are to Annie.


 * "But if you strike me, I will cry,
 * And gentlemen will hear me;
 * Lord Fyvie will be riding by,
 * And he’ll come in and see me."


 * At the same time, the lord came in;
 * He said, "What ails thee Annie?"
 * "'Tis all for love now I must die,
 * For bonny Andrew Lammie."


 * "Pray, Mill o' Tiftie, gi'e consent,
 * And let your daughter marry."
 * "It will be with some higher match
 * Than the Trumpeter of Fyvie."


 * "If she were come of as high a kind
 * As she’s adorned with beauty,
 * I would take her unto myself,
 * And make her my own lady."


 * "It's 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 struck her wondrous sore,
 * As also did her mother;
 * Her sisters also did her scorn,
 * But woe be to her brother!


 * Her brother struck her wondrous sore,
 * With cruel strokes and many;
 * He brake her back in the hall door,
 * For liking Andrew Lammie.


 * "Alas! my father and my mother dear,
 * Why so cruel to your Annie?
 * My heart was broken first by love,
 * My brother has broken my body.


 * "O mother dear, make ye my bed,
 * And lay my face to Fyvie;
 * Thus will I ly, and thus will die,
 * For my love, Andrew Lammie.


 * "Ye neighbours hear, both far and near,
 * Ye pity Tiftie’s Annie,
 * Who dies for love of one poor lad,
 * For bonny Andrew Lammie.


 * "No kind of vice e'er stain'd my life,
 * Or hurt my virgin honour;
 * My youthful heart was won by love,
 * But death will me exoner."


 * Her mother than she made her bed,
 * And laid her face to Fyvie;
 * Her tender heart it soon did break,
 * And ne'er saw Andrew Lammie.


 * But the word soon went up and down,
 * Through all the lands of Fyvie;
 * That she was dead and buried,
 * Even Tiftie's bonny Annie.


 * Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands,
 * Said, "Alas foe Tiftie’s Annie!
 * The fairest flower’s cut down by love
 * That e'er sprung up in Fyvie.


 * "O woe betide Mill o' Tiftie’s pride!
 * He might have let them marry;
 * I should have giv'n them both to live
 * Into the lands of Fyvie."


 * Her father sorely now laments
 * The loss of his dear Annie,
 * And wishes he had gi'en consent
 * To wed with Andrew Lammie.


 * Her mother grieves both air and late;
 * Her sisters, 'cause they scorned her;
 * Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve
 * For the cruel usage he'd giv'n her.


 * But now, alas! it was too late;
 * For they could not recal her;
 * Through life, unhappy is their fate,
 * Because they did controul her.


 * When Andrew hame frae Edinburgh came,
 * With meickle grief and sorrow,
 * "My love has died for me to-day,
 * I’ll die for her to-morrow.


 * "Now I will on to Tiftie’s den,
 * Where the burn runs clear and bonny;
 * With tears I’ll view the bridge of Sleugh,
 * Where I parted last with Annie.


 * "Then will I speed to the churchyard,
 * To The green churchyard of Fyvie,
 * With tears I’ll water my love’s grave,
 * Till I follow Tiftie’s Annie."


 * Ye parents grave, who children have,
 * In crushing them be canny;
 * Lest when too late you do repent;
 * Remember Tiftie's Annie.