Classic Poem

Is there, for honest Poverty,
That hangs 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 hodding-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, the 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;
The hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof 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 make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke and a' that;
But a 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, pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than o' 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, an' a' that
For a' that, and a' that.
It's comin' yet for a' that;
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.