Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame,Fareweel our ancient glory;Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish name,Sae fam’d in martial story.Now Sark rins over Solway sands,An’ Tweed rins to the ocean,To mark where England’s province stands—Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!8
What force or guile could not subdue,Thro’ many warlike ages,Is wrought now by a coward few,For hireling traitor’s wages.The English stell we could disdain,Secure in valour’s station;But English gold has been our bane—Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!16
O would, or I had seen the dayThat Treason thus could sell us,My auld grey head had lien in clay,Wi’ Bruce and loyal Wallace!But pith and power, till my last hour,I’ll mak this declaration;We’re bought and sold for English gold—Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!24