John Horne

We're Kaitness Fowk for a' That
by John Horne,
c. 1923

Is there a fyarter fae 'e north,
Fa hides his birth an' a' that,
An' blushes 'cause his faither's hoose
Is thecked wi' straw an a' that?
For a' that an a' that -
Wir modest crofts an a' that
E foosum trosk we pass him by -
We're Kaitness fowk an a' that.

What though we toil in fishin boats
Howk tattie fields an a' that,
Or drive a cairtie till e' hills -
A man's a man for a' that !
For a' that an a' that -
Wir herrin nets an a' that ;
Despise fa will wir canny ways
We're Kaitness fowk for a' that.

Ye see yin ############her dressed in spats
Fa scorns his nest an a' that.
Though florin in a motor car
He's no a man for a' that.
For a' that an a' that,
His honours blunt, an a' that,
Till hiz he's jist a blostin feel -
We're Kaitness fowk for a' that.

Oh, Southern lands hev richer fields,
Wi floorags, trees an a' that,
I wudna gie a tattie bleem
O' Kaitness soil for a' that.
For a' that, an a' that,
Here's til wirsels for a' that!
Though up or down, though far or near,
We're Kaitness fowk for a' that.