Page:Mill o' Tiftie's Annie, or, Andrew Lammie, the trumpeter of Fyvie (1).pdf/4

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She sighed sore but said no more,
 Alas! for bonnie Annie;
She durst not own her heart was won
 By the Trumpeter of Fyvie.

At night, when they went to their beds.
 All slept full sound but Annie;
Love so opprest her tender breast,
 Thinking on Andrew Lammie.

"Love comes in at my bed-side,
 And love lies down beyond me:
Love has possessed my tender breast,
 And love will waste my body.

"The first time I and my love met,
 Was in the woods of Fyvie;
His lovely form and speech so sweet,
 Soon gain'd the heart of Annie.

"He call'd me mistress, I said, No,
 I'm Tiftie's bonny Annie;
With apples sweet he did me treat,
 And kisses soft and many.

"Its up and down in Tiftie's den,
 Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
I've often gone to meet my love,
 My bonny Andrew Lammie."

But now, alas! her father heard,
 That the Trumpeter of Fyvie,
Had had the art to gain the heart
 Of Tiftie's bonny Annie.

Her father soon a letter wrote,
 And sent it on to Fyvie,
To tell his daughter was bewitch'd
 By his servant Andrew Lammie.

When Lord Fyvie had this letter read,
 O dear! but he was sorry;
The bonniest lass in Fyvie's land
 Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie.

Then up the stair his Trumpeter
 He called soon and shortly;
"Pray tell me soon, What's this you've done
 To Tiftie's bonny Annie?"