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Andrew Lammie

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Andrew Lammie - Martin Simpson Lyrics




At Mill o' Tifty there lived a man

In the neighbourhood of Fyvie

And he had a fine lovely daughter dear

Whose name was Bonnie Annie



Her bloom was like the springing flower

That hails the rosy morning

With innocence and grace likewise

Her lovely face adorning



Now Fyvie had a trumpeter

Whose name was Andrew Lammie

And he had the art for to gain the heart

Of Mill o' Tifty's Annie



Proper he was, both young and gay

His like was not in Fyvie

Nor was one there that could compare

With this same Andrew Lammie



Lord Fyvie he rode by the door

Where lived this Tifty's Annie

And his trumpeter rode him before

Even this same Andrew Lammie



Her mother called her to the door

Saying, “Come here to me, my Annie

Did you ever see a prettier man

Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?”



Nothing she said, but sighing sore

Alas for Bonnie Annie

For she dared not own that her heart was won

By the trumpeter o' Fyvie



At night when all went to their bed

All slept full soon but Annie

Love so oppressed her tender breast

Thinking on Andrew Lammie



“Oh love comes in at my bedside

And love lies down beside me

Love has possessed my tender breast

And love will waste my body



“The first time me and my love met

Twas in the woods o' Fyvie

And his lovely form and his speech so soft

Soon won the heart of Annie”



He called me “Mistress”, I said “No

I'm Tifty's Bonnie Annie”

And with apples sweet he did me treat

And kisses soft and many



But now alas her father heard

That the trumpeter o' Fyvie

Had had the urge to gain the heart

O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie



And her father soon a letter wrote

And he sent it on to Fyvie

To say his daughter was bewitched

By the servant Andrew Lammie



Then up the stairs his trumpeter

He called full soon and shortly

“Pray tell me now what is this you've done

To Mill o' Tifty's Annie?”



In wicked art I had no part

Nor therein am I canny

It was love alone the heart has won

Of Tifty's Bonnie Annie



Woe be to Mill o' Tifty's bride

For it has ruined many

They'll not have it said that she should wed

To the trumpeter o' Fyvie



“Oh Tifty, Tifty give consent

And let your daughter marry

It would be to one of a higher degree

Than the servant Andrew Lammie



“Had she been born as rich in kin

As she is rich in beauty

I would have taken the lass myself

And made her queen of Fyvie”



“Oh, Fyvie's lands are far and wide

And they are wondrous bonny

But I would not trade my own dear love

For all your lands of Fyvie”



At this her father did her scorn

And likewise did her mother

And her sisters too did her disown

But woe be to her brother



For her brother struck her wondrous sore

With cruel blows and many

And he broke her back on the temple stone

All for liking Andrew Lammie



“Oh mother, father, sisters dear

Why so cruel to your Annie?

My heart was broken first by love

Now my brother's broke my body



“Oh mother, mother oh make my bed

And turn my face to Fyvie

And it's there I'll lie and there I'll die

For the servant Andrew Lammie”



At Mill o' Tifty there lived a man

In the neighbourhood of Fyvie

And he had a fine lovely daughter dear

Whose name was Bonnie Annie


Andrew Lammie lyrics !!!