Robert Burns

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.

O Life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I.

O Life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.

Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert read more

Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert were a paradise
If thou wert there, if thou were there.

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain.

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain.