It's strange that God should fash to frame The yearth and lift sae hie, An' clean forget to explain the same To a gentleman like me.
They gutsy, donnered ither folk, Their weird they weel may dree;
But why present a pig in a poke To a gentleman like me?
They ither folk their parritch eat An' sup their sugared tea;
But the mind is no to be wyled wi' meat Wi' a gentleman like me.
They ither folk, they court their joes At gloamin' on the lea;
But they're made of a commoner clay, I suppose, Than a gentleman like me.
They ither folk, for richt or wrang, They suffer, bleed, or dee;
But a' thir things are an emp'y sang To a gentleman like me.
It's a different thing that I demand, Tho' humble as can be -
A statement fair in my Maker's hand To a gentleman like me:
A clear account writ fair an' broad, An' a plain apologie;
Or the deevil a ceevil word to God From a gentleman like me.
