X:1
T:Andrew Lammie [Mill o' Tifty's Annie]
B:Palmer, R, 1998, A Book of British Ballads, Llanerch Press
S:Sheila MacGregor, Blairgowrie, 1974
Z:Hamish Henderson
F:http://folkinfo.org/songs
M:3/4     %Meter
L:1/8     %
K:G
B,/B,/ G F |E3 B,DE |B,4 G3/2A/ |BB B3 E | G(AA2)
w:At the Mill o' Tif-ty's lived a man, In the neigh-bour-hood o' Fy-vie,*
 GA |BB B3 (A/B/) |GF E3 G/F/ |ED B,2 (A,3/2B,/) | D(EE)  |]
w:For he had a love-ly_ daught-er fair, An' they ca'ed her bon-ny * An-nie *
W:At Mill o' Tifty's lived a man,
W:In the neighbourhood of Fyvie:
W:For he had a lovely daughter fair
W:An' they ca'ed her bonny Annie.
W:
W:Her bloom was like the springin' flower
W:That hails the rosy mornin',
W:And her innocence and graceful mein
W:Her beauteous face adornin'.
W:
W:Noo her hair was fair and her eyes were blue,
W:And her cheeks as red as roses;
W:And her countenance was fair tae view,
W:An' they ca'ed her bonny Annie.
W:
W:Noo Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
W:Wha's name was Andra lammie,
W:And he had the airt for tae gain the hairt
W:O' the Mill of Tifty's Annie.
W:
W:Noo her mother cried her tae the door,
W:Sayin', "Come her to me, my Annie.
W:Did e'er ye see a prettier man
W:Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?"
W:
W:Oh but naethin' she said, but sighin' sair,
W:'Twas alas for bonny Annie,
W:For she durstnae own that her hairt was won
W:By the trumpeter o' Fyvie.
W:
W:And at nicht when all went tae their beds,
W:A' slept fu' soond but Annie;
W:Love so oppressed her tender breast
W:And love will waste her body.
W:
W:"Oh love come in to my bedside,
W:And love will lie beyond me;
W:Love so oppressed my tender breast,
W:And love will waste my body."
W:
W:"My love I go tae Edinburgh town,
W:An' for a while main leave thee."
W:"Oh but I'll be deid afore ye come back
W:In the green kirkyard o' Fyvie."
W:
W:So her faither struck her wondrous sore,
W:An' also did her mother;
W:And her sisters also took their score,
W:But woe be tae her brother.
W:
W:Her brother struck her wondrous sore
W:Wi' cruel strokes and many,
W:And he broke her back owre the temple-stane,
W:Aye, the temple-stane o' Fyvie.
W:
W:"Oh mother dear, please make my bed,
W:And lay my face tae Fyvie,
W:For I will lie and I will die
W:For my dear Andra Lammie."
W:
W:Noo when Andra hame fae Edinburgh came
W:Wi' muckle grief and sorrow:
W:"My love she died for me last night,
W:So I'll die for her tomorrow."