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But oh, if he's faithless, and mind na his Nannie,
Plow still between us, thou wide-roaring main,
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.
FOR A' THAT.
Tho' women's minds like winter winds,
May shift and turn and a' that,
The noblest breast adores them maist,
A consequence I draw that.
For a' that and a' that,
And twice as mikle's a' that,
The bonny lass that I loe best
She'll be my ain for a' that.
Great love I bear to all the fair,
Their humble slave and a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still,
A mortal sin to thraw that.
For a' that, &c.
But there is ane abaon the lave,
Has wit and sense, and a' that;
