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　　Whistle, And I'll Come To You, My Lad

　　Chorus.—O Whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad,

　　O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad,

　　Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,

　　O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad.

　　But warily tent when ye come to court me,

　　And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee;

　　Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see,

　　And come as ye were na comin' to me,

　　And come as ye were na comin' to me.

　　O whistle an' I'll come, &c.

　　At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,

　　Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;

　　But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,

　　Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me,

　　Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me.

　　O whistle an' I'll come, &c.

　　Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me,

　　And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a-wee;

　　But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,

　　For fear that she wile your fancy frae me,

　　For fear that she wile your fancy frae me.

　　O whistle an' I'll come, &c. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns