Andrew Lammie - Craig Herbertson

Andrew Lammie Lyrics

By Mill o Tifty there lived a man
In the neighbourhood o' Fyvie
He had a lovely daughter fair
And they called her bonnie AnnieLord Fyvie had a trumpeter
Whose name was Andrew Lammie
And he had the art to gain the heart
O' Mill o' Tyfty's AnnieLord Fyvie he rode by the door
Where lived Tifty's Annie
His trumpeter rode him before
Even this same Andrew LammieHer mother cried her to the door
Come here to me my Annie
Did ye ever see a prettier man
Than the trumpeter o' FyvieAh nothing she said but sighed fu sore
'Twas alas for bonnie Annie
For she durst not own her heart was won
By the trumpeter o' FyvieBut at night when a' goes to beds
All sleep true sound but Annie
Love so oppressed her tender breast

And love will wast her bodyThe first time me and my love met
Was in the woods o' Fyvie
He called me mistress I said no
I'm Mill o' Tyfty's AnnieMy love I go to Edinburgh toon
And for a while mon leave ye
O' but I'll be dede afore your return
In the green kirkyard o' FyvieHer father struck her wondrous sore
And likewise did her mother
Her sisters all so did her scorn
But woe be to her brotherHer brother struck her wondrous sore
With cruel strokes and many
For he broke her back under the temple stein
The temple stein o' FyvieO' mother dear now make my bed
And lay my face to'erd Fyvie
For I will lie and I will die
For love o Andrew LammieHer mother she gang make her bed
And laid her face toerd Fyvie
And its there she lay and its there she died
For Love o Andrew Lammie