Auld nature swears, the lovely dears / Her noblest work she classes O; / Her prentice han' she tried on man, / An' then she made the lasses O.

"Stop thief," Dame Nature cried to Death As Willy drew his latest breath, "How shall I make a fool again? My choicest model thou hast ta'en

Blame where you must, be candid where you can, and be each critic the good-natured man

The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might: Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.

A man's a man for a' that!