Robert Burns

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar,
Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar,
Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.

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.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's read more

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might:
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.

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.

What's a' your jargon o' your schools,
Your Latin names for horns and stools;
If honest nature read more

What's a' your jargon o' your schools,
Your Latin names for horns and stools;
If honest nature made you fools.