The Black-bird/Whistle an' I'll come t'ye

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad (Burns).

Whistle an’ I’ll come t’ye.

(By Burns.)

 O whistle, an' I’ll come t’ye, my lad,
 O whistle, an’ I’ll come t’ye, my lad,
Tho’ father an’ mother, an’ a’ shou’d gae mad,
 O whistle, an' I’ll come t’ye, my lad.

Ay wylily tent, when ye come to court me,
An’ comna unless the back-yate be agee;
Syne up the back-style, an’ lat nae body see,
An’ come as ye werena cornin’ to me.

   O whistle, &c.

At kirk, or at market, where’er ye meet me,
Ay pass me by, as ye car’dna a flee;
Yet gi’e me the blink o’ yer bonny black e’e,
An’ look as ye werena lookin’ at me.

   O whistle, &c.

Ay vow an’ protest that ye carena for me;
An’ whiles ye may lightly my beauty a-wee;
Yet courtna anither, tho’ jokin’ ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.

   O whistle, &c.

 

FINIS.