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Old Mortality

de Emily Smith

Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, and a' that
The coward slave we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that

For a' that, and a' that
Our toils 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 hodden grey, and 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, and 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 and stares, and aa that
Though hundreds worship at his word
He's but a coof for a' that

For a' that, and a' that
His ribband star, and a' that
The man of independent mind
He looks and laughs at a' that

A prince can mak a belted knight
A marquis, duke, and a' that
But an honest man's aboon his might
Gude faith he mauna fa that

For a' that, and a' that
Their dignities, and a' that
The pith o sense and 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, and a' that

For a' that, and a' that
Its comin yet for a' that
That man to man the warld o'er
Shall brothers be for a' that

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