Her mother then she made her bed, And laid her face to Fyvie; Her tender heart it soon did break, And ne'er saw Andrew Lammie. 180 But the word soon went up and down, Through all the lands of Fyvie, That she was dead and buried, Even Tiftie's bonny Annie. Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands, 185 Said, "Alas, for Tiftie's Annie! The fairest flower's cut down by love, That e'er sprung up in Fyvie. "O woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride! He might have let them marry; 190 I should have giv'n them both to live Into the lands of Fyvie." Her father sorely now laments The loss of his dear Annie, And wishes he had gi'en consent 195 To wed with Andrew Lammie. Her mother grieves both air and late; Her sisters, 'cause they scorn'd her; Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve, For the cruel usage he'd giv'n her. 200 But now, alas! it was too late, For they could not recal her; Through life, unhappy is their fate, Because they did controul her. When Andrew hame from Edinburgh came, 205 With meikle grief and sorrow, "My love has died for me to-day, I'll die for her to-morrow. "Now I will on to Tiftie's den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny; 210 With tears I'll view the bridge of Sleugh,[L211] Where I parted last with Annie. "Then will I speed to the churchyard, To the green churchyard of Fyvie; With tears I'll water my love's grave, 215 Till I follow Tiftie's Annie." Ye parents grave, who children have, In crushing them be canny, Lest when too late you do repent; Remember Tiftie's Annie. 220 211. "In one printed copy this is 'Sheugh', and in a recited copy it was called 'Skew'; which is the right reading, the editor, from his ignorance of the topography of the lands of Fyvie, is unable to say. It is a received superstition in Scotland, that, when friends or lovers part at a bridge, they shall never again meet." MOTHERWELL. THE TRUMPETER OF FYVIE. "The ballad was taken down by Dr. Leyden from the recitation of a young lady (Miss Robson) of Edinburgh, who learned it in Teviotdale. It was current in the Border counties within these few years, as it still is in the northeast of Scotland, where the scene is laid." Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 129. At Fyvie's yetts there grows a flower, It grows baith braid and bonny; There's a daisie in the midst o' it, And it's ca'd by Andrew Lammie.