Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain
o'the Puddin-race! Aboon them a' ye
tak your place, Painch, tripe, or
thairm: Weel are ye wordy
of a grace As lang's myarm. Robert Burns 'To a Haggis', stanza1.
A chieftain to the Highlands bound Cries 'Boatman, do
not tarry! And I'll give thee
a silver pound To row us o'er the
ferry.' Thomas Campbell 'Lord Ullin's Daughter', stanza1.