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ANDREW LAMMIE
AT Mill o' Tiftie liv'd a man,
in the neighbourhood of Fyvie,
He had a lovely daughter fair
was ca l'd a bonny Annie
Her bloom ⟨was⟩ like the ſpringing ⟨flower⟩
that salutes the roſy morning
With innocence a graceful mien,
her beauteous from adorning.
Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
whose name was Andrew Lammie,
He had the art to gain the heart,
Of Mil of Tiftie's Annie
Proper he was both young gay,
his like a not in Fyvie.
No one was there that cou d compare
with this ſame Andrew Lammie.
Lord Fyvie he rode by the door,
where lived Tiftie's Annie,
His tumpeter rode him before.
even this ſame Andrew Lammie,
Her mother call'd her to the door,
come here to me my Annie
Did ever you see a prettier man,
then this trumpeter of Fyvie.
Nothing ſhe ſaid but ſighed ſore,
alas! for bonny Annie,
She durſt not own her heart was ⟨wore,⟩
by the trumpeter of Fyvie.
