Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him
by
We dare be poor for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toil's obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,-
The
man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin' grey, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves
their wine,-
A man's a man, for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show an' a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae
poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts an' stares an' a' that,-
Tho' hundreds worship at his
word,
He's but a coof for a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that
His riband, star, and a' that;
The man o' independent mind,
He looks an'
laughs at a' that.