Tha Ulstèr-Scotch Leid Societie, mintit at giein a heft tae tha Ulstèr-Scotch leid, oor ain hamelt tongue

A Song on Marriage

Taken from Poetical Attempts by Hugh Porter, a County of Down weaver (Belfast, 1813) Printed for Archbold and Dugan by Simms and McIntyre, Donegall-street.

The day is come, my bonny bride,
That ye're my ain, and a' that,
Will death, we maun thegither bide:
They say, it is the law that,
The law that, the law that —
It is an unco law that,
The knot that tyes for life, it is
A knot that winna draw, that.

Weel, since it's sae, we'll ne'er complain,
Nor ban our stars, an' a' that,
When love and frien'ship form the chain,
It never gies a ga' that,
For a' that, an' a that,
Our kin'red sauls, an' an' that,
Are baith now souther'd up in ane —
It's love without a flaw, that.

There are o' ilka ae degree,
Would curse our state, an' a' that,
Wha wadna toil to plant the tree,
Would pou the fruit for a that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
They're like the Cat, an' a' that,
"That wadna wat her fit" for fish,
But yet wad eat, for a' that.

They'll swear wi' love, they're like to dee,
But wait a wee, for a' that,
Gie them their will, they'll may be see,
They're no' as ill as a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
They'll deel, an' damn, an' a that,
To ruin some poor orphan thing
That's no' awar o' a' that.

They'll grunt, an' grane, an' greet, an' glower,
An' plot, an' scheme, an' a' that,
Their chastity to riot owre,
Then fare ye weel, for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's lang owre late, for a' that,
To speak about a wadin' day,
Gude faith, they'll keep awa' that.

But let them keek their heart within,
When life's weel worn, an' a' that
An' there they'll find a sting behin',
Will wound their peace for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
Tho' they repent, an' a' that,
Wi' bitter tears, an' sorry hearts,
It winna sair for a' that.

But we, each ither's hearts shall keep
Frae care, an' woe, an' a' that —
Tho' some may think we're ty'd like sheep,
They're far mista'en, for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that;
We're no' sae bun' as a' that:
The ban's are sweet — when love's the law
Its no' like ban's ava, that.

We'll steal thro' life, unknown to time,
In innocence, an' a' that,
An' if we live without a crime,
'Twill mak' us dee right braw, that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
There is a place an' a' that,
Prepar'd for sic aboon the lift —
The realms of bliss, they ca' that.

Sud death, each ither part us frae,
There's comfort here for a' that;
Full on the verge of perfect day,
We'll meet again, for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that; —
If ye maun flit, an' a' that,
Ye Mammonites, an' quat your cash,
'Twill drive your wits awa, that.