4
It's up and down in Tifty's glen,
Where the burn rins clear and bonnie
I've often gane to meet my love,
My bonnie Andrew Lammie.
But now alas! her father heard
That the trumpeter of Fyvie,
Had had the art to gain the heart
Of Mill of Tifty's Annie.
Her father soon a letter wrote
And sent it on to Fyvie,
To tell his daughter was bewitched
By his servant Andrew Lammie.
Then up the stair his trumpeter
He called soon and shortly,
Pray tell me soon what's this you've done
To Tifty's bonnie Annie.
Woe be to Mill of Tifty's pride,
For it has ruined many-
They'll not have't said that she should wed
The trumpeter of Fyvie.
In wicked art I had no part,
Nor therein am I canny;
True love alone the heart has won
Of Tifty's bonnie Annie.
Where shall I find a boy so kind
That will carry a letter canny;
Who will run to Tifty's town-
Give it to my love Annie.
Tifty he has daughters three,
Who all are wonderous bonnie;
But ye'll ken her o'er a' the rest,
Give that to bonnie Annie.
