This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad;
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad:
Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad,
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.
But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come na 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, &c.
O whistle, &c.
At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie:
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black ee,
Yet look as ye were na lookin at me.
Yet look, &c.
O whistle, &c.
Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But court na anither, tho' jokin ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
For fear, &c.
O whistle, &c.