Robert Burns

And there begins a lang digression
About the lords o' the creation.

And there begins a lang digression
About the lords o' the creation.

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

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.

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!