By Robert Burns

Is there, for honest poverty,
Wha149-1 hangs 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 gowd149-2 for a’ that!

What though on hamely149-3 fare we dine,
Wear hodden-gray,149-4 and a’ that;
Gie149-5 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,150-6 ca’d150-7 a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a’ that;
Though hundreds worship at his word
He’s but a coof150-8 for a’ that.
For a’ that, and a’ that,
His ribbon, 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 aboon150-9 his might,
Guid faith, he mauna150-10 fa’150-11 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,
May bear the gree,150-12 and a’ that.
For a’ that, and a’ that,
It’s coming yet, for a’ that,
When man to man, the warld o’er,
Shall brithers be for a’ that!