And plead their cause, and a’ that?
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Would any say, in a’ that
We’ve nought to do—they are not here—
We’ll mind our own, and a’ that?
O tell us not they’re clothed and fed,
’Tis insult, stuff, and a’ that;
With freedom gone, all joy is fled,
For Heaven’s best gift is a’ that!
For a’ that, and a’ that,