“O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad”

by Robert Burns English

O Whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad, O whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad, Tho’ father and mither and a’ should gae mad, O whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad. But warily tent, when ye come to court me, And come na 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, etc.     O whistle, etc. At kirk, or at market, whene’er ye meet me, Gang by me as tho’ that ye cared nae a flie; But steal me a blink o’ your bonnie black ee, Yet look as ye were na lookin’ at me. Yet look, etc.     O whistle, etc. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee; But court nae anither, tho’ jokin’ ye be, For fear that she wile your fancy frae me. For fear, etc.     O whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad.

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