Farewell to all our Scottish fame,
Farewell our ancient glory!
Farewell even to the Scottish name.
So famed in martial story!
Now Sark runs over Solway sands,
And Tweed runs to the ocean,
To mark where England’s province stands -
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue
Through many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor’s wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour’s station;
But English gold has been our bane -
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My old grey head had lain in clay
With Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I will make this declaration:
'We are bought and sold for English gold'-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
