“Is there, for honest poverty
That 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 toil’s obscure, and a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp;
The man’s the gowd for a’ that.
“What though on homely fare we dine,
A prince can make a belted knight,