FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. "A great critic (Aikin) on songs says, that love and wine are the exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is on neither subject, and consequently is no song, but will be allowed, I think, to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme." Burns to Mr. Thomson, January, 1795 -- Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! Our toils obscure, and a' that; What though on hamely fare we dine, Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 1 A similar thought occurs in Wycherley's Plain-Dealer, which Burns probably never saw: "I weigh the man, not his title; 'tis not the king's stamp can make the metal better of heavier. Your lord is a leaden shilling, which you bend every way, and debases the stamp he bears." For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that. For a' that, and a' that. His ribbon, star, and a' that ; A prince can mak a belted knight, fellow fool But an honest man's aboon his might, above Guid faith, he maunna fa' that! For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Then let us pray that come it may As come it will for a' that That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, supremacy 1 Claim that to be dependent on his sanction. For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, O WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN? "Do you know an air- I am sure you must know it We'll gang nae mair to yon town? I think, in slowish time, it would make an excellent song. I am highly delighted with it; and if you should think it worthy of your attention, I have a fair dame in my eye, to whom I would consecrate it. Try it with this doggrel- until I give you a better." - Burns to Mr. Thomson, 7th February, 1795. This song will be found, complete, further on. CHORUS. O WAT ye wha's in yon town, That e'enin' sun is shinin' on. Where Jeanie wanders aft her lane; alone The hawthorn flower that shades her bower, Oh, when shall I behold again! O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET? TUNE- Let me in this ae Night. O LASSIE, art thou sleeping yet? know For love has bound me hand and foot, And I would fain be in, jo. dear CHORUS. O let me in this ae night, For pity's sake this ae night, Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet, Nae star blinks through the driving sleet; Tak pity on my weary feet, And shield me frae the rain, jo. The bitter blast that round me blaws HER ANSWER. O TELL na me o' wind and rain, CHORUS. I tell you now this ae night, And ance for a' this ae night, my will not sharpest The snellest blast, at mirkest hours, That's trusted faithless man, jo. The sweetest flower that decked the mead, Now trodden like the vilest weed Let simple maid the lesson read, The weird may be her ain, jo. The bird that charmed his summer-day, How aft her fate's the same, jo! Feb. 9th, 1795 fate |