English and Scottish Ballads Volume II Part 23

He has loupen on the bonny black, He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly; 10 But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny grey, He rade the right gate and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, 15 For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden o'er field and fell, Through muir and moss, and mony a mire: His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, And fra her fore-feet flew the fire. 20

"Now, bonny grey, now play your part!

Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, And never spur sall make you wearie."--

The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; 25 But when she wan the Annan water, She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.

"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!

Put off your boat for gowden money! 30 I cross the drumly stream the night, Or never mair I see my honey."--

"O I was sworn sae late yestreen, And not by ae aith, but by many; And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, 35 I dare na take ye through to Annie."

The side was stey, and the bottom deep, Frae bank to brae the water pouring; And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. 40

O he has pou'd aff his dapperby coat, The silver b.u.t.tons glanced bonny; The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, He was sae full of melancholy.

He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; 45 I wot he swam both strong and steady; But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail, And he never saw his bonny ladye!

"O wae betide the frush saugh wand!

And wae betide the bush of brier! 50 It brake into my true love's hand, When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.

"And wae betide ye, Annan Water, This night that ye are a drumlie river!

For over thee I'll build a bridge, 55 That ye never more true love may sever."--

ANDREW LAMMIE.

"From a stall copy published at Glasgow several years ago, collated with a recited copy, which has furnished one or two verbal improvements." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 239.

Mr. Jamieson has published two other sets of this simple, but touching ditty, (i. 126, ii. 382,) one of which is placed after the present. Motherwell's text is almost verbatim that of Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 98. The _Thistle of Scotland_ copies Buchan and Jamieson without acknowledgment.

The story has been made the foundation of a rude drama in the North of Scotland. For a description of similar entertainments, see Cunningham's Introduction to his _Songs of Scotland_, i. 148.

The unfortunate maiden's name, according to Buchan, (_Gleanings_, p.

197,) "was Annie, or Agnes, (which are synonymous in some parts of Scotland,) Smith, who died of a broken heart on the 9th of January, 1631, as is to be found on a roughly cut stone, broken in many pieces, in the green churchyard of Fyvie." "What afterwards became of Bonny Andrew Lammie," says Jamieson, "we have not been able to learn; but the current tradition of the 'Lawland leas of Fyvie', says, that some years subsequent to the melancholy fate of poor Tifty's Nanny, her sad story being mentioned, and the ballad sung in a company in Edinburgh when he was present, he remained silent and motionless, till he was discovered by a groan suddenly bursting from him, and _several of the b.u.t.tons flying from his waistcoat_."

At Mill o' Tifty liv'd a man, In the neighbourhood of Fyvie; He had a lovely daughter fair, Was called bonny Annie.

Her bloom was like the springing flower 5 That salutes the rosy morning; With innocence and graceful mien Her beauteous form adorning.

Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter Whose name was Andrew Lammie; 10 He had the art to gain the heart Of Mill o' Tiftie's Annie.

Proper he was, both young and gay, His like was not in Fyvie; No one was there that could compare 15 With this same Andrew Lammie.

Lord Fyvie he rode by the door, Where lived Tiftie's Annie; His trumpeter rode him before, Even this same Andrew Lammie. 20

Her mother call'd her to the door: "Come here to me, my Annie; Did you ever see a prettier man Than this Trumpeter of Fyvie?"

She sighed sore, but said no more, 25 Alas, for bonny 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; 30 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 possess'd my tender breast, 35 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. 40

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

"It's up and down in Tiftie's den, 45 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 50 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 55 By his servant Andrew Lammie.

When Lord Fyvie had this letter read, O dear! but he was sorry; The bonniest la.s.s in Fyvie's land Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie. 60

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?"

"In wicked art I had no part, 65 Nor therein am I canny; True love alone the heart has won Of Tiftie's bonny Annie.

"Woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride, For it has ruin'd many; 70 He'll no ha'e 't said that she should wed The Trumpeter of Fyvie.

"Where will I find a boy so kind, That'll carry a letter canny, Who will run on to Tiftie's town, 75 Give it to my love Annie?"

"Here you shall find a boy so kind, Who'll carry a letter canny, Who will run on to Tiftie's town, And gi'e 't to thy love Annie." 80

"It's Tiftie he has daughters three, Who all are wondrous bonny; But ye'll ken her o'er a' the lave, Gi'e that to bonny Annie."

"It's up and down in Tiftie's den, 85 Where the burn runs clear and bonny; There wilt thou come and meet thy love, Thy bonny Andrew Lammie.

"When wilt thou come, and I'll attend?

My love, I long to see thee." 90 "Thou may'st come to the bridge of Sleugh, And there I'll come and meet thee."

"My love, I go to Edinbro', And for a while must leave thee;"

She sighed sore, and said no more 95 But "I wish that I were wi' thee."

"I'll buy to thee a bridal gown, My love, I'll buy it bonny;"

"But I'll be dead, ere ye come back To see your bonnie Annie." 100

"If you'll be true and constant too, As my name's Andrew Lammie, I shall thee wed, when I come back To see the lands of Fyvie."

"I will be true, and constant too, 105 To thee, my Andrew Lammie; But my bridal bed will ere then be made, In the green churchyard of Fyvie."