233A: Andrew Lammie

 233A.1	 ‘AT Fyvie’s yetts there grows a flower,
 	 It grows baith braid and bonny;
 	 There’s a daisie in the midst o it,
 	 And it’s ca’d by Andrew Lammie.
 233A.2	 ‘O gin that flower war in my breast,
 	 For the love I bear the laddie!
 	 I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it,
 	 And daut it for Andrew Lammie.
 233A.3	 ‘The first time me and my love met
 	 Was in the woods of Fyvie;
 	 He kissed my lips five thousand times,
 	 And ay he ca’d me bonny,
 	 And a’ the answer he gat frae me,
 	 Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!’
 233A.4	 ‘Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh;
 	 Love, I maun gang and leave thee!’
 	 ‘I sighed right sair, and said nae mair
 	 But, O gin I were wi ye!’
 233A.5	 ‘But true and trusty will I be,
 	 As I am Andrew Lammie;
 	 I’ll never kiss a woman’s mouth
 	 Till I come back and see thee.’
 233A.6	 ‘And true and trusty will I be,
 	 As I am Tiftie’s Annie;
 	 I’ll never kiss a man again
 	 Till ye come back and see me.’
 233A.7	 Syne he’s come back frae Edinburgh
 	 To the bonny hows o Fyvie,
 	 And ay his face to the nor-east,
 	 To look for Tiftie’s Annie.
 233A.8	 ‘I hae a love in Edinburgh,
 	 Sae hae I intill Leith, man;
 	 I hae a love intill Montrose,
 	 Sae hae I in Dalkeith, man.
 233A.9	 ‘And east and west, whereer I go,
 	 My love she’s always wi me;
 	 For east and west, whereer I go,
 	 My love she dwells in Fyvie.
 233A.10	 ‘My love possesses a’ my heart,
 	 Nae pen can eer indite her;
 	 She’s ay sae stately as she goes
 	 That I see nae mae like her.
 233A.11	 ‘But Tiftie winna gie consent
 	 His dochter me to marry,
 	 Because has five thousand marks,
 	 And I have not a penny.
 233A.12	 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
 	 Love, love decays the body;
 	 For love o thee, oh I must die;
 	 Adieu, my bonny Annie!’
 233A.13	 Her mither raise out o her bed,
 	 And ca’d on baith her women:
 	 ‘What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear?
 	 O Annie, was ye dreamin?
 233A.14	 ‘What dule disturbd my dochter’s sleep?
 	 O tell to me, my Annie!’
 	 She sighed right sair, and said nae mair
 	 But, O for Andrew Lammie!
 233A.15	 Her father beat her cruellie,
 	 Sae also did her mother;
 	 Her sisters sair did scoff at her;
 	 But wae betide her brother!
 233A.16	 Her brother beat her cruellie,
 	 Till his straiks they werena canny;
 	 He brak her back, and he beat her sides,
 	 For the sake o Andrew Lammie.
 233A.17	 ‘O fie, O fie, my brother dear!
 	 The gentlemen’ll shame ye;
 	 The Laird o Fyvie he’s gaun by,
 	 And he’ll come in and see me.
 233A.18	 ‘And he’ll kiss me, and he’ll clap me,
 	 And he will speer what ails me;
 	 And I will answer him again,
 	 It’s a’ for Andrew Lammie.’
 233A.19	 Her sisters they stood in the door,
 	 Sair grievd her wi their folly:
 	 ‘O sister dear, come to the door,
 	 Your cow is lowin on you.’
 233A.20	 ‘O fie, O fie, my sister dear!
 	 Grieve me not wi your folly;
 	 I’d rather hear the trumpet sound
 	 Than a’ the kye o Fyvie.
 233A.21	 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
 	 Love, love decays the body;
 	 For love o thee now I maun die;
 	 Adieu to Andrew Lammie!’
 233A.22	 But Tiftie’s wrote a braid letter,
 	 And sent it into Fyvie,
 	 Saying his daughter was bewitchd
 	 By bonny Andrew Lammie.
 233A.23	 ‘Now, Tiftie, ye maun gie consent,
 	 And lat the lassie marry;’
 	 ‘I’ll never, never gie consent
 	 To the trumpeter of Fyvie.’
 233A.24	 When Fyvie looked the letter on,
 	 He was baith sad and sorry:
 	 Says, The bonniest lass o the country-side
 	 Has died for Andrew Lammie.
 233A.25	 O Andrew’s gane to the house-top
 	 O the bonny house o Fyvie,
 	 He’s blawn his horn baith loud and shill
 	 Oer the lawland leas o Fyvie.
 233A.26	 ‘Mony a time hae I walkd a’ night,
 	 And never yet was weary;
 	 But now I may walk wae my lane,
 	 For I’ll never see my deary.
 233A.27	 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
 	 Love, love decays the body;
 	 For the love o thee now I maun die;
 	 I come, my bonny Annie!’

233B: Andrew Lammie

 233B.1	 ‘THERE springs a rose in Fyvie’s yard,
 	 And O but it springs bonny!
 	 There’s a daisy in the middle of it,
 	 Its name is Andrew Lammie.
 233B.2	 ‘I wish the rose were in my breast,
 	 For the love I bear the daisy;
 	 So blyth and merry as I would be,
 	 And kiss my Andrew Lammie.
 233B.3	 ‘The first time I and my love met
 	 Was in the wood of Fyvie;
 	 He kissed and he dawted me,
 	 Calld me his bonny Annie.
 233B.4	 ‘Wi apples sweet he did me treat,
 	 Which stole my heart so canny,
 	 And ay sinsyne himself was kind,
 	 My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233B.5	 ‘But I am going to Edinburgh,
 	 My love, I’m going to leave thee;’
 	 She sighd full sore, and said no more,
 	 ‘I wish I were but wi you.’
 233B.6	 ‘I will buy thee a wedding-gown,
 	 My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’
 	 ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back,
 	 My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233B.7	 ‘I will buy you brave bridal shoes,
 	 My love, I’ll buy them bonny;’
 	 ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back,
 	 My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233B.8	 ‘If you’ll be true and trusty too,
 	 As I am Andrew Lammie,
 	 That you will neer kiss lad nor lown
 	 Till I return to Fyvie.’
 233B.9	 ‘I shall be true and trusty too,
 	 As my name’s Tifty’s Nanny,
 	 That I’ll kiss neither lad nor lown
 	 Till you return to Fyvie.’-+--+-
 233B.10	 ‘Love pines awa, love dwines awa,
 	 Love pines awa my body;
 	 And love’s crept in at my bed-foot,
 	 And taen possession o me.
 233B.11	 ‘My father drags me by the hair,
 	 My mother sore does scold me;
 	 And they would give one hundred merks
 	 To any one to wed me.
 233B.12	 ‘My sister stands at her bower-door,
 	 And she full sore does mock me,
 	 And when she hwars the trumpet sound,-+--+-
 	 "[Your cow is lowing, Nanny!"]
 233B.13	 ‘O be still, my sister Jane,
 	 And leave off all your folly;
 	 For I’d rather hear that cow low
 	 That all the kye in Fyvie.
 233B.14	 ‘My father locks the door at night,
 	 Lays up the keys fu canny,
 	 And when he hears the trumpet sound,-+--+-
 	 "[Your cow is lowing, Nanny!"]
 233B.15	 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear,
 	 And let be a’ your folly;
 	 For I would rather hear that cow
 	 Than all the kye in Fyvie.’
 	 * * * * *
 233B.16	 ‘If you ding me, I will greet,
 	 And gentlemen will hear me;
 	 Laird Fyvie will be coming by,
 	 And he’ll come in and see me.’
 233B.17	 ‘Yea, I will ding you though ye greet
 	 And gentlemen should hear you;
 	 Though Laird Fyvie were coming by,
 	 And did come in and see you.’
 233B.18	 So they dang her, and she grat,
 	 And gentlemen did hear her,
 	 And Fyvie he was coming by,
 	 And did come in to see her.
 233B.19	 ‘Mill of Tifty, give consent,
 	 And let your daughter marry;
 	 If she were full of as high blood
 	 As she is full of beauty,
 	 I would take her to myself,
 	 And make her my own lady.’
 233B.20	 ‘Fyvie lands ly broad and wide,
 	 And O but they ly bonny!
 	 But I would not give my own true-love
 	 For all the lands in Fyvie.
 233B.21	 ‘But make my bed, and lay me down,
 	 And turn my face to Fyvie,
 	 That I may see before I die
 	 My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233B.22	 They made her bed, and laid her down,
 	 And turnd her face to Fyvie;
 	 She gave a groan, and died or morn,
 	 So neer saw Andrew Lammie.
 233B.23	 Her father sorely did lament
 	 The loss of his dear Nannie,
 	 And wishd that he had gien consent
 	 To wed with Andrew Lammie.
 233B.24	 But ah! alas! it was too late,
 	 For he could not recall her;
 	 Through time unhappy is his fate,
 	 Because he did controul her.
 233B.25	 You parents grave who children have,
 	 In crushing them be canny,
 	 Lest for their part they break their heart,
 	 As did young Tifty’s Nanny.

233C: Andrew Lammie

 233C.1	 AT Mill of Tifty lived a man,
 	 In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
 	 He had a luvely daughter fair,
 	 Was call d bonny Annie.
 233C.2	 Her bloom was like thr springing flower
 	 That hails the rosy morning,
 	 With innocence and graceful mein
 	 Her beautous form adorning.
 233C.3	 Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
 	 Whose name was Andrew Lammie;
 	 He had the art to gain the heart
 	 Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie.
 233C.4	 Proper he was, both young and gay,
 	 His like was not in Fyvie,
 	 Nor was ane there that could compare
 	 With this same Andrew Lammie.
 233C.5	 Lord Fyvie he rode by the door
 	 Where liv d Tifty’s annie;
 	 His trumpeter rode him before,
 	 Even this same Andrew Lammie.
 233C.6	 Her mother called her to the door;
 	 ‘Come here to me, my Annie:
 	 Did eer you see a prettier man
 	 Than the trumpeter of Fyvie?’
 233C.7	 Nothing she said, but sighing sore,
 	 Alas for Bonnie Annie!
 	 She durst not own her heart was won
 	 By the trumpeter of Fyvie.
 233C.8	 At night when all went to their bed,
 	 All slept full soon but Annie;
 	 Love so oppresst her tender breast,
 	 Thinking on Andrew Lammie.
 233C.9	 ‘Love comes in at my bed-side,
 	 And love lies down beyond me;
 	 Love has possest my tender breast,
 	 And love will waste my body.
 233C.10	 ‘The first time me and my love met
 	 Was in the woods of Fyvie;
 	 His lovely form and speech so soft
 	 Soon gaind the heart of Annie.
 233C.11	 ‘He called me mistress;I said, No,
 	 I’m Tifty’s bonny Annie;
 	 With apples sweet he did me treat,
 	 And kisses soft and mony.
 233C.12	 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den,
 	 Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
 	 I’ve often gane to meet my love,
 	 My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233C.13	 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.
 233C.14	 Her father soon a letter wrote,
 	 And sent it on to Fyvie,
 	 To tell his daughter was bewitchd
 	 By his servant, Andrew Lammie.
 233C.15	 Then up the stair his trumpeter
 	 He call d soon and shortly:
 	 ‘Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done
 	 To Tifty’s bonny Annie.’
 233C.16	 ‘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.
 233C.17	 ‘In wicked art I had no part,
 	 Nor therein am I canny;
 	 True love alone the heart has won
 	 Of Tifty’s bonnie Annie.
 233C.18	 ‘Where will 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?
 233C.19	 ‘Tifty he has daughters three
 	 Who all are wonderous bonny;
 	 But ye’ll ken her oer a’ the rest;
 	 Give that to bonny Annie.
 233C.20	 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den,
 	 Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
 	 There wilt thou come and I’ll attend;
 	 My love, I long to see thee.
 233C.21	 ‘Thou mayst come to the brig of Slugh,
 	 And there I’ll come and meet thee;
 	 It’s there we will renew our love,
 	 Before I go and leave you.
 233C.22	 ‘My love, I go to Edinburgh town,
 	 And for a while must leave thee;’
 	 She sighed sore, and said no more
 	 But ‘I wish that I were with you!’
 233C.23	 ‘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.’
 233C.24	 ‘If ye’ll be true and constant too,
 	 As I am Andrew Lammie,
 	 I shall thee wed when I come back
 	 To see the lands of Fyvie.’
 233C.25	 ‘I will be true and constant too
 	 To thee, my Andrew Lammie,
 	 But my bridal bed or then’ll be made
 	 In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’
 233C.26	 ‘The time is gone, and now comes on
 	 My dear, that I must leave thee;
 	 If longer here I should appear,
 	 Mill of Tifty he would see me.’
 233C.27	 ‘I now for ever bid adieu
 	 To thee, my Andrew Lammie;
 	 Or ye come back I will be laid
 	 In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’
 233C.28	 He hied him to the head of the house,
 	 To the house-top of Fyvie,
 	 He blew his trumpet loud and shrill,
 	 It was heard at Mill of Tifty.
 233C.29	 Her father lockd the door at night,
 	 Laid by the keys fu canny,
 	 And when he heard the trumpet sound
 	 Said, Your cow is lowing, Annie.
 233C.30	 ‘My father dear, I pray forbear,
 	 And reproach not your Annie;
 	 I’d rather hear that cow to low
 	 Than all the kye in Fyvie.
 233C.31	 ‘I would not for my braw new gown,
 	 And all your gifts so many,
 	 That it was told in Fyvie land
 	 How cruel ye are to Annie.
 233C.32	 ‘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.’
 233C.33	 At the same time the lord came in;
 	 He said, What ails thee Annie?
 	 ‘It’s all for love now I must die,
 	 For bonny Andrew Lammie.’
 233C.34	 ‘Pray, Mill of Tifty, give consent,
 	 And let your daughter marry;’
 	 ‘It will be with some higher match
 	 Than the trumpeter of Fyvie.’
 233C.35	 ‘If she were come of as high a kind
 	 As she’s advanced in beauty,
 	 I would take her unto myself,
 	 And make her my own lady.’
 233C.36	 Fyvie lands are far and wide,
 	 And they are wonderous bonny;
 	 But I would not leave my own true-love
 	 For all the lands in Fyvie.’
 233C.37	 Her father struck her wonderous sore,
 	 As also did her mother;
 	 Her sisters also did her scorn,
 	 But woe be to her brother!
 233C.38	 Her brother struck her wonderous sore,
 	 With cruel strokes and many;
 	 He broke her back in the hall-door,
 	 For liking Andrew Lammie.
 233C.39	 ‘Alas! my father and my mother dear,
 	 Why so cruel to your Annie?
 	 My heart was broken first by love,
 	 My brother has broke my body.
 233C.40	 ‘O mother dear, make me my bed,
 	 And lay my face to Fyvie;
 	 Thus will I lie, and thus will die
 	 For my dear Andrew Lammie.
 233C.41	 ‘Ye neighbours hear, baith far and near,
 	 And pity Tifty’s Annie,
 	 Who dies for love of one poor lad,
 	 For bonny Andrew Lammie.
 233C.42	 ‘No kind of vice eer staind my life,
 	 Or hurt my virgin honour;
 	 My youthful heart was won by love,
 	 But death will me exoner.’
 233C.43	 Her mother than she made her bed,
 	 And laid her face to Fyvie;
 	 Her tender heart it soon did break,
 	 And never saw Andrew Lammie.
 233C.44	 Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands,
 	 Said, Alas foe Tifty’s Annie!
 	 The fairest flower’s cut down by love
 	 That ever sprang in Fyvie.
 233C.45	 ‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride!
 	 He might have let them marry;
 	 I should have given them both to live
 	 Into the lands of Fyvie.’
 233C.46	 Her father sorely now laments
 	 The loss of his dear Annie,
 	 And wishes he had given consent
 	 To wed with Andrew Lammie.
 233C.47	 When Andrew home frae Edinburgh came,
 	 With muckle grief and sorrow,
 	 ‘My love is dead for me to-day,
 	 I’ll die for her to-morrow.
 233C.48	 ‘Now I will run to Tifty’s den,
 	 Where the burn runs clear and bonny;
 	 With tears I’ll view the brig of Slugh,
 	 Where I parted from my Annie.
 233C.49	 ‘Then will I speed to the green kirk-yard,
 	 To The green kirk-yard of Fyvie,
 	 With tears I’ll water my love’s grave,
 	 Till I follow Tifty’s Annie.’