For a' that, an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that :
For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that,
The man o' independent mind,
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities, an' a' that,

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may, (As come it will for a' that,)

That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth, Should bear the gree, an' a' that

For a' that and a' that,

It's comin yet for a' that,

That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS.

D

TUNE-"Push about the jorum."

April, 1795.

OES haughty Gaul invasion threat?
Then let the loons beware, sir,
There's Wooden Walls upon our seas,
And Volunteers on shore, sir.
The Nith shall run to Corsincon,1
And Criffel sink to Solway,

Ere we permit a foreign foe
On British ground to rally!

Fall de rall, etc.

O let us not like snarling tykes
In wrangling be divided;
Till, slap! come in an unco loon

And wi' a rung decide it.

1 Corsincon, a high hill at the source of the river Nith. 2 Criffel, a mountain at the mouth of the same river.

Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang oursels united ;

For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted!

Fall de rall, etc.

The kettle o' the kirk and state,
Perhaps a claut may fail in't ;
But deil a foreign tinkler loon
Shall ever ca' a nail in't.

Our fathers' bluid the kettle bought,
And wha wad dare to spoil it;
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it !

Fall de rall, etc.

The wretch that wad a tyrant own,
And the wretch his true-born brother,
Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne,
May they be damned together!

Who will not sing "God save the King,"
Shall hang as high 's the steeple ;

But while we sing, "God save the King,” We'll ne'er forget the people.

MARY MORISON.

TUNE-" Bide ye yet.

MARY, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor : How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun; Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw :
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
"Ye are na Mary Morison."

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie, At least be pity to me shown; A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison.

O SAW YE BONIE LESLEY.

TUNE-"The Collier's bonie Lassie."

SAW ye bonie Lesley,

As she gaed o'er the border?

She's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her, is to love her,

And love but her for ever;

For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts of men adore thee.
The Deil he cou'dna scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee!
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say, "I canna wrang thee."