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I’ve heard the Boys of the Lough version above. It seems like a much shortened version of that given in English and Scottish ballads Ed. by Francis James Child. Author: Child, Francis James, ed. 1825-1896.
capo 2nd fret
Andrew Lammie
by Francis James Child
At [F] Mill O Tiftie thair [C] lived a man
In the [Dm] neighbourhod o [G] Fyvie
An he [F] had a [C] lovely [Dm] dochter [Am] fair
An her [Dm] name wis [Am] Bonnie [Dm] Annie
Lord Fyvie he had a trumpeter
An his name wis Andrew Lammie
He had the airt tae win the hert
O Mill o Tiftie’s Annie
Her mither caad her tae the door,
“Come here tae me, my Annie
Did ere ye see a fairer man
Than the trumpeter o Fyvie?”
At nicht whan aa were tae thair beds
Thae slept fou sound but Annie,
For luve oppressed her tender breast
Thinkin o Andrew Lammie
“For it’s luve comes in at my bedside
An luve lies doun aside me
Luve has oppressed my tender breast
An luve will waste my body”
“It’s up an doun in Tiftie’s den
Faur the burn rins clear an bonnie
A’ve aften gaen tae meet my luve
Ma ain dear Andrew Lammie”
He’s hied him tae the hill sae high
The hilltop high o Fyvie
He blew his trumpet loud an shrill
Twas heard at Mill o Tiftie
Her faither he struck her wondrous sair
An likewise did her mither
Her sisters thae did scorn as weill
But wae be tae her brither
For her brither he struck her wondrous sair
Wi cruel straiks an mony
He brak her back agin the door
For her ain Andrew Lammie
“O mither dear, gae mak ma bed
An lay ma face tae Fyvie
Thair A’ll lie an thair A’ll die
For sake o Andrew Lammie”
In the [Dm] neighbourhod o [G] Fyvie
An he [F] had a [C] lovely [Dm] dochter [Am] fair
An her [Dm] name wis [Am] Bonnie [Dm] Annie
Lord Fyvie he had a trumpeter
An his name wis Andrew Lammie
He had the airt tae win the hert
O Mill o Tiftie’s Annie
Her mither caad her tae the door,
“Come here tae me, my Annie
Did ere ye see a fairer man
Than the trumpeter o Fyvie?”
At nicht whan aa were tae thair beds
Thae slept fou sound but Annie,
For luve oppressed her tender breast
Thinkin o Andrew Lammie
“For it’s luve comes in at my bedside
An luve lies doun aside me
Luve has oppressed my tender breast
An luve will waste my body”
“It’s up an doun in Tiftie’s den
Faur the burn rins clear an bonnie
A’ve aften gaen tae meet my luve
Ma ain dear Andrew Lammie”
He’s hied him tae the hill sae high
The hilltop high o Fyvie
He blew his trumpet loud an shrill
Twas heard at Mill o Tiftie
Her faither he struck her wondrous sair
An likewise did her mither
Her sisters thae did scorn as weill
But wae be tae her brither
For her brither he struck her wondrous sair
Wi cruel straiks an mony
He brak her back agin the door
For her ain Andrew Lammie
“O mither dear, gae mak ma bed
An lay ma face tae Fyvie
Thair A’ll lie an thair A’ll die
For sake o Andrew Lammie”
X:17 T:Andrew Lammie M:2/4 L:1/8 K:G Q:100 D | "G"G A G2 | B, C D E | D3 G | G A B2 | "C"E"G"G "D"A2 | A3 G/A/ | "G"B B "D"A2 | BG "C"EE/D/ | "G"B,3 G | F "C"E E/D/ "G"B,/A,/ | B,/D/ "C" E E2 |]