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Robert Burns

Is there for honest poverty

That hings 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 toils obscure, an' 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 hodden gray, 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, tho' 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 cuif for a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

His riband, star, an' a' that,

The man o' independent mind

He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak' a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an' a' that!

But an honest man's aboon his might—

Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities an' a' that,

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,

Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,

(As come it will for a' that)

That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,

Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

It's comin' yet, for a' that,

That man to man, the world o'er,

Shall brithers be for a' that.