> Folk Music > Songs > Andrew Lammie / Mill o' Tifty's Annie

Andrew Lammie / Mill o' Tifty's Annie

[ Roud 98 ; Child 233 ; G/D 5:1018 ; Ballad Index C233 ; VWML CJS2/10/4157 ; Bodleian Roud 98 ; trad.]

Jeannie Robertson sang Bonnie Annie and Andrew Lammie to Alan Lomax in London in November 1953. This recording was included in 1998 on her Rounder CD The Queen Among the Heather. A version sung by her nephew Stanley Robertson in Aberdeen in 2002 was included in 2006 in Mike Yates' book of songs of English and Scottish travellers and gypsies, Traveller's Joy.

Sheila Stewart sang Mill o’ Tifty’s Annie on the 1968 Topic album of songs and ballads from the Lowland East of Scotland, Back o' Benachie, and 30 years later on her CD From the Heart of the Tradition. In this video she sings it to Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger in 1980:

Ray Fisher sang Mill o' Tifty's Annie in 1972 on her Trailer album The Bonny Birdy.

The Boys of the Lough sang Andrew Lammie in 1973 on their Trailer album The Boys of the Lough.

Jane Turriff of Mintlaw, Aberdeenshire, sang Mill o Tifty's Annie on the 1975 Tangent anthology The Muckle Sangs (Scottish Tradition Volume 5). She also sang it in a 1973 recording that was included in 1996 on her Springthyme CD Singin' Is Ma Life. That album's liner notes commented:

Mill o Tifty's Annie is one of Jane's favourite songs and one with strong local connections and claims of authenticity. Though she knows fifty-two verses, like many singers, she sings a shortened version, concentrating on the parts that to her carry the greatest emotional impact. Sometimes in verse nine, she sings a lovely variant, “I will bring to you o bridal shoon/ An oh bit dearie they will be bonnie” that does not appear in any of the Greig-Duncan or Child texts but, apart from that, her text is quite stable from rendition to rendition.

Jane has known and sung the song for nearly seventy years, and used to sing it to her husband Cameron's mother.

Sheena Wellington sang Mill o' Tifty's Annie in a concert at Nitten (Newtongrange) Folk Club, Scotland, that was published in 1995 on her Greentrax CD Strong Women. She commented in her liner notes:

The flat gravestone that bears the name, Agnes Smith, and date of death, January 10, 1673, of the tragic heroine of this powerful ballad is in the kirkyard of Fyvie in Aberdeenshire. At nearby Fyvie castle on one of the turrets can be seen the gargoyle-like representation of the trumpeter Andrew Lammie. Lammie was reputed to have knowledge of the black arts, hence the notion that he had ‘bewitched’ Bonnie Annie. I have been singing this unaccompanied for years but I do like the sensitive backing that Ewen [Sutherland] and Simon [Thoumire] have provided.

Gordeanna McCulloch sang Mill o' Tifty's Annie on the 1997 Fellside anthology Ballads. Paul Adams commented in the liner notes:

The heroine is reputed to be one Annie Smith who died in 1673 and was buried in Fyvie Churchyard. Certainly the song has the feel of a ballad of considerable age. It's tune is a close relation of other “classic ballads” (c.f. Dowie Dens of Yarrow, Georgie, Barbara Allen). Gordeanna's source for this song was the fine Scots traditional singer, Sheila Stewart.

Old Blind Dogs sang Mill o' Tifty in 1999 on their CD The World's Room. Susan Malcolm noted:

Also known as Andrew Lammie, this traditional “muckle ballad” tells the true story of Agnes Smith, a miller's daughter who lived near Fyvie in Aberdeenshire. She fell in love with Lord Fyvie's trumpeter, a man below her station, then compounded her troubles by spurning his employer. For this “sin” she was killed by her brother. Her gravestone still stands in Fyvie kirkyard, dated 1673.

Kate Rusby sang Andrew Lammie in 2007 on her CD Awkward Annie.

Martin Simpson sang Andrew Lammie in 2007 on his Topic CD Prodigal Son. He commented in his sleeve notes:

Andrew Lammie or Mill o' Tifty's Annie is a very big ballad indeed. Seemingly based on the life of Agnes Smith, daughter of William Smith, a close relative to the Laird of Inveramsay. According to F.J. Child who numbers this ballad 233 in The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Agnes' gravestone is dated January 19, 1673. Mill of Tiftie was a mill and house standing a mere half mile North East of the castle of Fyvie, so the Lord would have regularly ridden by the door. I first heard this sung by Ray Fisher and compiled these lyrics from various sources. Just in case we thought honour killing to be a shocking new event, here it is in our high society.

Chris Miles sang Mill o' Tiftie's Annie at the Fife Traditional Singing Festival, Collessie, Fife in May 2009. This recording was included a year later on the festival anthology, There's Bound to Be a Row (Old Songs & Bothy Ballads Volume 6). The liner notes commented:

Annie, daughter of a well-to-do miller loses her heart to a handsome trumpeter Andrew Lammie in the service of Lord Fyvie. Her father does not approve of such a match, she is mistreated by her family and eventually killed by her brother while Andrew is away in Edinburgh. When Peter Buchan printed his Gleanings in 1828 he referred to this as “one of the greatest favourites of the people of Aberdeenshire” and it remained popular into the 20th century with ten variants of tune and text in the Greig-Duncan collection. Chris sings a much condensed version but broadsheet copies of the ballad (Child 233) were printed in great numbers in the 1800s and in these there are as many as 50 or more verses.

Lyrics

Ray Fisher sings Mill o' Tifty's Annie Gordeanna McCulloch sings Mill o Tito's Annie

At Mill o' Tifty lived a man,
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
And he had a lovely daughter fair,
Was called bonny Annie.

At Mill O' Tifty lived a man,
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
He had a bonny dochter fair,
And they ca'd her bonny Annie.

Her bloom was like the springing flo'er
That greets the rosy morning,
Her innocence and graceful mien,
Her beauteous face adorning.

Her hair was fair and her eyes were blue
And her cheeks were like the roses,
Her countenance was fair to view,
And they ca'd her bonny Annie.

Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
Whose name was Andrew Lammie,
And he had the airt tae gain the hairt
O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie.

Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
And his name was Andrew Lammie,
And he had the art tae win the heart
O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie.

Lord Fyvie he rade by the door
Whaur lived Tifty's Annie;
And his trumpeter rode him before,
Even this same Andrew Lammie.

Her mither called her to the door,
Saying, “Come here tae me, my Annie.
Did e'er ye see a bonnier lad
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?”

Her mother cried her tae the door,
Says, “Come here tae me, my Annie.
Did e'er ye see a prettier man
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?”

Naething she said, but sighing sore,
Alas for bonny Annie.
She durst not own her hairt was won
By the trumpeter o' Fyvie.

Naething she said, but sighing sore,
'Twas alas for Bonnie Annie.
For she durst not own that her heart was won
By the trumpeter o' Fyvie.

For at nicht when a' lay in their beds,
A' sleepit soon but Annie;
Love so oppressed her tender breast,
Thinkin' on Andrew Lammie.

Oh love comes in at my bedside,
And love lies doon beside me;
Love so possessed my tender breast
And love will waste my body.

For the first time me and my love met,
'Twas in the woods o' Fyvie.
And wi' kisses sweet he did me greet,
And called me his bonny Annie.

But the last time me and my love met
Says he, “My bonny Annie,
It's I maun gang to Edinburgh town,
But I'll soon win back tae Fyvie”

But word is soon has gotten roon'
That the trumpeter o' Fyvie
Has had the airt tae gain the hairt
O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie.

So Tifty's wrote a letter braid,
And he's sent it up to Fyvie,
Tae say his daughter was bewitched
By his servant Andrew Lammie.

Her faither cam' tae hear o' this
And a letter wrote tae Fyvie,
Tae tell his dochter had been bewitched
By his servant Andrew Lammie.

So Fyvie rade straicht tae the Mill,
Saying, “What ails ye, Bonny Annie?”
“Oh it's a' for love that I maun dee,
It's a' for Andrew Lammie.”

“O Tifty, Tifty gie consent
And let your dochter marry.”
“It will be tae ane o' a higher degree
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie.”

“Had she been born o' richer kin
As she is rich in beauty,
I would hae ta'en the lass mysel'
And made her my ain true lady”

“O Fyvie's lands are far and wide
An' they are wondrous bonny,
But I wadna leave my ain true love,
No' for a' your lands o' Fyvie.”

Her faither locked the door at nicht,
Laid by the key sae canny.
And when he heard that trumpet sound
He said, “Your coo is lowing, Annie.”

“O faither dear, pray forbear,
Reproach not your Annie.
I wud raither hear that cooing low
Than all your kye in Fyvie.

“And if ye strike me, I will cry
And gentlemen will hear me,
Lord Fyvie, he'll come riding by,
And he'll come in and see me.”

At this, her faither struck her sore,
As likewise did her mother.
Her sisters all they did her scorn,
But wae be tae her brither!

But her faither struck her wondrous sore
And also did her mither,
Her sisters also took their score,
But wae be tae her brother!

For her brither struck her wondrous sore
Wi' cruel strokes and monie,
He broke her back 'gainst the high ha' door,
Just for loving Andrew Lammie.

For her brother struck her wondrous sore
Wi' cruel strokes and mony,
And he broke her back on the temple stane,
Aye, the temple stane o' Fyvie.

At that same time the Lord comes in
He sais, “What ails thee, Annie?”
“It's a' for love that I must die,
For loving Andrew Lammie.”

“O faither, mither, sisters a',
Why so cruel tae your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love,
Noo my brither's broke my body.

“Oh mither, mither, mak my bed
And turn my face tae Fyvie,
That I may lie and thus may die
For the trumpeter o' Fyvie”

“Oh mother dear, mak' me my bed
An' lay my face tae Fyvie;
It's there I'll lie till I will die
For loving Andrew Lammie.”

Her mother then she made her bed
And turned her face to Fyvie;
Her tender heart then soon did break
And she ne'er see'd Andrew Lammie.

Now people here both far and near,
Oh pity Tifty's Annie,
Wha'd died for love of one pair lad
For bonny Andrew Lammie.

Martin Simpson sings Andrew Lammie

At Mill o' Tifty there lived a man
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie
And he had a fine lovely daughter dear
Whose name was Bonnie Annie

Her bloom was like the springing flower
That hails the rosy morning
With innocence and grace likewise
Her lovely face adorning

Now Fyvie had a trumpeter
Whose name was Andrew Lammie
And he had the art for to gain the heart
Of Mill o' Tifty's Annie

Proper he was, both young and gay
His like was not in Fyvie
Nor was one there that could compare
With this same Andrew Lammie

Lord Fyvie he rode by the door
Where lived this Tifty's Annie
And his trumpeter rode him before
Even this same Andrew Lammie

Her mother called her to the door
Saying, “Come here to me, my Annie
Did you ever see a prettier man
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?”

Nothing she said, but sighing sore
Alas for Bonnie Annie
For she dared not own that her heart was won
By the trumpeter o' Fyvie

At night when all went to their bed
All slept full soon but Annie
Love so oppressed her tender breast
Thinking on Andrew Lammie

“Oh love comes in at my bedside
And love lies down beside me
Love has possessed my tender breast
And love will waste my body

“The first time me and my love met
Twas in the woods o' Fyvie
And his lovely form and his speech so soft
Soon won the heart of Annie”

He called me “Mistress”, I said “No
I'm Tifty's Bonnie Annie”
And with apples sweet he did me treat
And kisses soft and many

But now alas her father heard
That the trumpeter o' Fyvie
Had had the urge to gain the heart
O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie

And her father soon a letter wrote
And he sent it on to Fyvie
To say his daughter was bewitched
By the servant Andrew Lammie

Then up the stairs his trumpeter
He called full soon and shortly
“Pray tell me now what is this you've done
To Mill o' Tifty's Annie?”

In wicked art I had no part
Nor therein am I canny
It was love alone the heart has won
Of Tifty's Bonnie Annie

Woe be to Mill o' Tifty's bride
For it has ruined many
They'll not have it said that she should wed
To the trumpeter o' Fyvie

“Oh Tifty, Tifty give consent
And let your daughter marry
It would be to one of a higher degree
Than the servant Andrew Lammie

“Had she been born as rich in kin
As she is rich in beauty
I would have taken the lass myself
And made her queen of Fyvie”

“Oh, Fyvie's lands are far and wide
And they are wondrous bonny
But I would not trade my own dear love
For all your lands of Fyvie”

At this her father did her scorn
And likewise did her mother
And her sisters too did her disown
But woe be to her brother

For her brother struck her wondrous sore
With cruel blows and many
And he broke her back on the temple stone
All for liking Andrew Lammie

“Oh mother, father, sisters dear
Why so cruel to your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love
Now my brother's broke my body

“Oh mother, mother oh make my bed
And turn my face to Fyvie
And it's there I'll lie and there I'll die
For the servant Andrew Lammie”

At Mill o' Tifty there lived a man
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie
And he had a fine lovely daughter dear
Whose name was Bonnie Annie

Digital Tradition version of Mill O' Tifty's Annie, apparently as sung by Jean Redpath

At Mill O' Tifty there lived a man
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie
He had a bonnie dochter dear
Whose name was Bonnie Annie

Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
By the name o' Andrew Lammie
He had the art tae win the heart
O' Mill o' Tifty's Annie

Lord Fyvie he rade by the mill
Whaur lived Tifty's Annie
And his trumpeter rade him before
Even this same Andrew Lammie

Her mother cried her tae the door
Saying, “Come here tae me, my Annie
Did e'er ye see a bonnier man
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie?”

Nothing she said, but sighing sore
Alas for Bonnie Annie
Love so oppressed her tender breast
Thinking on Andrew Lammie

“Love comes in at my bedside
And love lies doon aside me
Love so oppresses my tender breast
And love will waste my body

“The first time me and my love met
“Twas in the woods o' Fyvie
He ca'd me 'Mistress', I said 'No
I was Tifty's Bonnie Annie'

“It's up and doon in Tifty's den
Where the burn runs clear and bonnie
I've often gane tae meet my love
My bonnie Andrew Lammie”

Her faither cam' tae hear o' this
And a letter wrote tae Fyvie
Tae say his dochter was bewitched
By his servant Andrew Lammie

Lord Fyvie he rade by the mill
“What ails ye, Bonnie Annie?”
“It's a' for love that I maun die
For bonnie Andrew Lammie”

“Oh Tifty, Tifty gie consent
And let your dochter marry
It'll be tae ane o' higher degree
Than the trumpeter o' Fyvie

“Had she been born o' richer kin
As she is rich in beauty
I was hae ta'en the lass mysel'
And made her my ain lady”

“Oh, Fyvie's lands are far and wide
An' they are wondrous bonnie
But I wadnae gie my ain true love
No' for a' your lands o' Fyvie”

At this her faither struck her sore
And likewise did her mother
Her sisters a' they did her scorn
But waes me for her brother

Her brother struck her wondrous sore
Wi' cruel strokes and many
He broke her back on the high ha' door
A' the likin' Andrew Lammie

“Oh faither, mother, sisters a'
Why sae cruel tae your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love
Noo my brother's broke my body

“Oh mother, mother mak' my bed
An' lay my face tae Fyvie
Thus will I lie and will I die
For my ain dear Andrew Lammie”

Links

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Garry Gillard for transcribing the lyrics and collecting all the information.