Her brother struck her wondrous sore,
With cruel strokes and many;
He brake her back in the hall door,
"Alas! my father and mother dear,
Why so cruel to your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love,
My brother has broken my body.
"O mother dear, make ye my bed,165
And lay my face to Fyvie;
Thus will I ly, and thus will die,
For my love, Andrew Lammie!
"Ye neighbours, hear, both far and near;
Ye pity Tiftie's Annie,170
Who dies for love of one poor lad,
For bonny Andrew Lammie.
"No kind of vice e'er stain'd my life,
Nor hurt my virgin honour;
My youthful heart was won by love,175
But death will me exoner."
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.