Scotland/Scots > Old Scottish ballad of Andrew Lammie, or, Mill of Tifty's Annie

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No kind of vicj eYr stained my iife,
Or hurt my virgin honour :
My \ outhful heart was won by love,
But death will me exoner.
Her mother then she made her bed,
And laid her face to Fyv.e
Her tender heart it soon did break,
And never saw Andrew Lammie.
Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands,
Said, alas! for Fifty's Annie;
The fairest flower cut down by him,
That ever sprung in Fyvie.
Woe be to Mill of Fifty's pride,
He might have let them marry,
I should have given both to live,
Into the lands of Fyvie
Her father sorely now laments,
The loss of his dear Annie,
And wishes he had given consent.
To wed with Andrew Lammie.
Whe \ndrew home from Edinburgh came
With muckle grief and sorii.w;
My love is dead for me to-day,
I’ll d'eforher to-morrow.
Now I will run o Tifey’s den,
V\ here the burn runs clear and bonny
With tears III view the t rig ofShigh,
Where I parted with my Annie-