Chorus
  O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad,
  O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad;
  Tho' fahther, an' mother, an' a' should gae mad,
    O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!

I
But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-style and let naebody see,
  And come as ye were na comin to me ,
  And come as ye were na comin to me !

II
At kirk, or at market whene'er ye meet me, 
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd nae a flie;
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
  Yet look as ye were na lookin at me,
  Yet look as ye were na lookin at me.

III
Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But court nae anither, tho' jokin ye be,
  For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me,
  For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.