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196 ANDREW LAMMIE.
" I now for ever bid adieu
To thee, my Andrew Lammie ;
Ere ye come back, I will be laid ns
In the green churchyard of Fyvie."
He hied him to the head of the house,
To the house top of Fyvie ; He blew his trumpet loud and schill;
'Twas heard at Mill o' Tiftie. _ m
Her father lock'd the door at night,
Laid by the keys fu' canny ; And when he heard the trumpet sound,
Said, " Your cow is lowing, Annie."
" My father dear, I pray forbear, ias
And reproach no more your Annie;
For I'd rather hear that cow to low, Than ha'e a' the kine in Fyvie.
" I would not, for my braw new gown, And a' your gifts sae many, ia>
That it were told in Fyvie's land How cruel you are to Annie.
" But if ye strike me, I will cry,
And gentlemen will hear me ; Lord Fyvie will be riding by, iss
And he'll come in and see me." |
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