Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
427 . SongWhistle and Ill come to you
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. 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. 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. 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.