Page:Mill o' Tiftie's Annie, or, Andrew Lammie, the trumpeter of Fyvie (1).pdf/7

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

"Its 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 always did her seorn;
 But woe be to her brother.

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

"Alas! my father and 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 lie, 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 viee e'er stain'd my life,
 Nor hurt my virgin honour;
My youthful heart was won by love,
 But death will me exoner."

Her mother then 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.