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O WHISTLE AN I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD.
Words by BURNS. Air by Johs Bruce. Key-note B flat.
O WHISTLE an' I'll come to you, my lad;
O whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad;
Tho' father an' mither an'a should gae mad,
O whistle and I'll come to you, my lad.
But warily tent when you come to court me,
An' comena unless the back yett be a-jee,
Syne up the back stile, an' let naebody see,
An' come as ye werena comin' to me,
An' come as ye werena comin' to me.
O whistle, &c.
At kirk or at market whene'er you meet me,
Gang bye me as tho that ye caredna a flee;
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e.
Yet look as ye werena lookin' at me,
Yet look as ye werena lookin' at me.
O whistle, &c.
Aye vow an protest that ye carena for me,
An' whiles ye may lichtly my beauty a wee;
But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,
For fear that ye wile your fancy frae me,
For fear that ye wile your fancy frae me.
O whistle, &c.
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I NEITHER GAT.
Air" The Laird of Cockpan." Keynote E minor.
I NEITHER gat plenishing, siller, nor land,
Wi' the bonnie wee lassie that gae me her hand;
Bas I gat a kind heart, an' a lovely black e'e,
And these were worth manors and mailings to me.
I might had a wife wi' a boardin-school air,
Bedizen'd wi' trinkets and pearlins sae rare;
A weel stockit purse, an' a lang pedigree.
But these without true love wad ne'er suited me.
Commend me to Jeannie, there's grace in her air,
And purity reigns in her bosom sae fair;
The tones o her voice, and the blink o' her e'e,
An' her smiles sae bewitchin' are treasures to me.
When absent frae her low my bliss is impair'd,
Tho' I dine wi' the laddies an' drink wi' the laird ;
But to meet her again, an' her sweet bairnies three,
Is worth manors, an' mailings, au' kingdoms to me.
