The Highland Plaid (1)/What Ails You Pate

For other versions of this work, see What ails you, Pate.
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WHAT AILS YOU PATE.

Tune—For a' that, an' a' that.

What ails yon now my daintie Pate,Ye winna wed an' a' that?Say are ye fley'd or are ye blate,To tell your love an' a' that.To kiss and clap an' a' that,O fy for shame an' a' that, ​To spend your life without a wife,'Tis to the gate ava that.
Ere lang you will grow auld an' frail,Your haffets white an a' thatAn whare's the Meg, the Kate, or Nell,Will hae you syne wi' a that.Runkl'd brow an a' that,Wizen'd face an a that,Wi' beard sae grey, there's nane will haeA kiss frae you an a' that.
O stand nae up wi' whare an how,Wi' ifs and buts an a' tha,Wi' feckless scruples not a few;Pull up your heart an a' that.Crousely crack an a that,Come try your luck an a' that;The hiney-moon will ne'er gang done,If guidit weel an a that
There's monie lass baith douce an fair,Fu' soncy, fier; an a' thatWad suit you to a very hair,Sae clever they're an a' thatHandsome, young, a'n' a' thatSae complaisant an a' that;Sa sweet an braw, an gude an a',What ails the chield at a' that.
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Come look about an wale a wife,Like honest fouk an a' that.An lead a cheerfu virtuous life;Hae plenty, peace, an 'a that;A thrifty Wife, an a' that,An bonnie bairns an a' that;Syne in your ha' shall pleasure's a'Smile ilka day on a' that.

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