Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv’d;
     Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I pruv’d;
     But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
     I can feel, by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.

     Oh, if I were—­where happy I hae been—­
     Down by yon stream, and yon bonie castle-green;
     For there he is wand’ring and musing on me,
     Wha wad soon dry the tear-drop that clings to my e’e.

For The Sake O’ Somebody

     My heart is sair—­I dare na tell,
     My heart is sair for Somebody;
     I could wake a winter night
     For the sake o’ Somebody. 
     O-hon! for Somebody! 
     O-hey! for Somebody! 
     I could range the world around,
     For the sake o’ Somebody.

     Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love,
     O, sweetly smile on Somebody! 
     Frae ilka danger keep him free,
     And send me safe my Somebody! 
     O-hon! for Somebody! 
     O-hey! for Somebody! 
     I wad do—­what wad I not? 
     For the sake o’ Somebody.

1795

A Man’s A Man For A’ That

     Tune—­“For a’ that.”

     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 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 mak a belted knight,
     A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
     But an honest man’s abon 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.

Craigieburn Wood

     Sweet fa’s the eve on Craigieburn,
     And blythe awakes the morrow;
     But a’ the pride o’ Spring’s return
     Can yield me nocht but sorrow.