"Where will I find a boy so kind,
That'll carry a letter cannie :
Who will run on to Tifty's town,
Give it to my love Annie?"

"Here you shall find a boy so kind,
Who'll carry a letter cannie:
Who will run on to Tifty's town,

And gi'e 't to thy love Annie.'

"It's Tifty he has daughters three,
Who all are wond'rous bonnie;
But ye'll ken her o'er a' the lave,-
Gi'e that to bonnie Annie."

"It's up and down in Tifty's den,

Where the burn rins clear and bonnie, There wilt thou come and meet thy love, Thy bonnie Andrew Lammie.

"When wilt thou come, and I'll attend, My love, I long to greet thee?"

"Thou may'st come to the Bridge of Sleugh,

And there I'll come and meet thee."

And for a while must leave thee."

She sighed sore, and said no more,

But "I wish that I were with thee."

"I'll buy to thee a bridal gown,

My love, I'll buy it bonnie."

"But I'll be dead ere you come back

66

To see your bonnie Annie."

'If you'll be true and constant too,
As my name's Andrew Lamrie,
I shall thee wed when I come back
To see the lands of Fyvie."

"I will be true, and constant too,

To thee, my Andrew Lammie ;
But my bridal bed will ere then be made
In the green churchyard of Fyvie."

"Our time is gone and now comes on,
My dear, that I must leave thee;
If longer here I should appear,
Mill o' Tifty he would see me."

"I now for ever bid adieu

To thee, my Andrew Lammie ; Ere ye come back, I will be laid

In the green churchyard of Fyvie."

He hied him to the head of the house,
To the housetop 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' cannie;

And when he heard the trumpet sound,
Said "Your cow is lowing, Annie."

"My father dear, I pray forbear,

And reproach no more your Annie; For I'd rather hear that cow to low, Than hae a' the kye in Fyvie.

"I would not for my braw new gown,
And a' your gifts sae many,
That it were told in Fyvie's land,
How cruel you are to Annie.

"But if you strike me, I will cry,

And gentlemen will hear me ;

Lord Fyvie will be riding by,

And he'll come in and see me."

At this same time my lord came in ; He said "What ails thee, Annie ?" """Tis all for love now I must die,

For bonnie Andrew Lammie."

"Pray, Mill o' Tifty, gi'e consent,
And let your daughter marry.'
"It will be with some higher match
Than the Trumpeter of Fyvie."

"If she were come of as high a kind
As she's adorn'd with beauty,

I would take her unto myself,

And make her mine own Ladye."

"It's Fyvie's lands are fair and wide,
And they are rich and bonnie;
But I would not leave my own true love,
For all the lands of Fyvie."

Her father struck her wond'rous sore,

As also did her mother;

Her sisters both they did her scorn-
But woe be to her brother!

Her brother struck her wond'rous sore,
With cruel strokes and many;
He brake her back in the hall door,
For liking Andrew Lammie.

"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.

"Oh, mother dear, make ye my bed,
And lay my face to Fyvie;
Thus will I lie, and thus will die,

For my love Andrew Lammie!

"Ye neighbours dear, both far and near,

Ye'll pity Tifty's Annie ;

Who dies for love of one poor lad,

For bonnie Andrew Lammie.

"No kind of vice e'er stained my life,
Nor hurt my virgin honour ;
My youthful heart was won by love,

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;
She ne'er saw Andrew Lammie.

But the tidings soon went up and down,
Through all the lands of Fyvie ;

That she was dead and buriéd,
Even Tifty's bonnie Annie.

Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands ;—
"Alas! for Tifty's Annie !
The fairest flow'r's cut down by love,
That e'er sprung up in Fyvie.

"Oh, woe betide Mill o' Tifty's pride!
He might have let them marry;
I should have gi'en 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
To wed with Andrew Lammie.

Her mother grieves both ear' and late,
Her sisters, 'cause they scorn'd her;
Sorely her brother doth mourn and grieve,
For the cruel usage gi'en her.

But now,

alas! it was too late,

For they could not recall her;
Through life unhappy is their fate,

Because they did control her.

When Andrew hame from Edinbro' came,
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 Tifty's den,

Where the burn runs clear and bonnie;
With tears I'll view the Bridge of Sleugh,
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,
Till I follow Tifty's Annie."

Ye parents grave, who children have,
In crushing them be canny,
Lest, when too late, you do repent ;
Remember Tifty's Annie.

Chevy Chase.

This rude, but graphic, old heroic ballad has commanded alike the admiration of the illiterate and the learned. Ben Jonson envied its author, and Sir Philip Sidney confessed how his own soul was moved by its vigorous strains. "I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas," said Sir Philip, "that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind crowder, with no rougher voice than rude style, which being so evil apparelled in the dirt and cobweb of that uncivil age, what