In the green kirk-yard of Fyvie.'
He hied him hame, and having spieled
To the house-top of Fyvie,
He blew his trumpet loud and shrill,
'Twas heard at Mill-o'-Tifty.
Her father locked 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,