Tho’ hundreds cheer his blatant bosh,
He’s but a goose for a’ that.
For a’ that and a’ that,
His Bubblyjocks, and a’ that,
A man with twenty grains of sense,
He look and laughs at a’ that.
A prince can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a’ that,
And if the title’s earned, all right,
Old England’s fond of a’ that.