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...