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 hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and 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 ribband, 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,
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 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 coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.
Notes
In 'A Night Out With Robert Burns: The Greatest Poems' Andrew O'Hagan comments: 'It was not an ideology or a party, a faction or a government that authored a Marseillaise to the human spirit, but Burns, a farmer's son, who died at 37 with a deep conception of what it means to be alive. His greatest poem is not a farewell to the lasses, the drinks, the immortals or the politics, but a rousing welcome to what is best in each of us. When the night is over and we make our way home, when the morning is clear and the sky busy with birds and their songs, we will know our place in the world by the size of our faith in fellowship. This conviction makes Burns the world's greatest and most loveable poet.'
