f4f3 | For A' That

With a nice sense of closure, I turn to Andrew O'Hagan's marvelous book, "A Night Out With Robert Burns", and his introduction to the last poem in that book.

His words give me joy, not only because he talks about "our poet", and means the world's poet, but because he puts a name to the single quality that I am proudest of in my fellow Scots, and which I treasure in everyone I meet, from wherever in the world they come. I might have called it "brotherhood", before various arguments long gone, but O'Hagan puts it better: "Our faith in fellowship."

"Our poet knew that earth was perhaps all the paradise that we shall ever know, and the argument of his days was aimed at restoring the sovereignty of decency and fairness. It was not an ideology or a party, a faction or a government, that authored a "Marseillaise" to the human spirit, but Robert Burns, a farmer's son, who died at 37 with a deep conception of what it means to be alive. His greatest poem is not a farewell to the lasses, the drinks, the immortals or the politics, but a rousing welcome to what is best in each of us, for a' that and a' that, as we live and breathe. When the night is over and we make our way home and the morning is clear and the sky is busy with birds and their songs, we will know our place in the world by the size of our faith in fellowship. It is this conviction that makes Burns the word's greatest and most loveable poet."

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif 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,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' 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,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.