The Whistling Thief by Samuel Lover (Ireland, 1797 - 1868)
on an album by Danny Carnahan and Chris Caswell called, New Leaves on an Old Tree

There's Pat come over the hill
His darlin' fair to see
Not whilstlin low but shrill
His signal sure to be
His signal sure to say
If you're mother it won't allow're
then come steppin out side to steal
a kiss behind the barn

There's Mary beside the door
a-waiting for her dear
Her mother's beside the hearth
The whistlin's caught her ear
Oh, Mary, listen now,
There is somebody whilstlin sure
Oh, Mother it's only the wind
a-whistlin through the door

I've lived for quite a long time
in this old house, my dear
But the wind to whistle like that
I never yet did hear
But Mother you know the fiddle
It hangs close beside the chink
And the wind upon the strings
is playin a tune, I think

The dog is howling now
The fiddle can't play the tune
But Mother - the dog is only
howlin at the moon
But how can he see the moon
when he is old and blind?
Blind dogs don't howl at the moon
and fiddles don't play in the wind

And now I hear a pig
uneasy in its mind
But mother you know they say that
pigs can see the wind
That's true enough by day
but then you may remark
A pig no more than we
can see anything in the dark

I'm not the fool that you think
I knew all along that it's Pat
Go home, you whistlin thief
and do get away after that
And Mary go to bed
don't play upon me your tears
I may have lost my youth
I haven't lost my ears!

So lads when courtin go
and for your sweethearts wait
Take care - don't whistle too loud
in case the old woman you'd wake
For the day when I was young
sure forget it I never can
I learned the difference between
A fiddle a dog and a man