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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.

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.