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.
A prince can mak’ a belted knight
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s aboon his might,-
Gude faith, he maunna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that;
Their dignities an’ a’ that,
The pith o’ sense an’ pride o’ worth,
Are higher ranks 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 coming yet for a’ that,-
That man to man, the world o’er,
Shall brothers be for a’ that!