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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;
