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 o'er the Solway sands
And Tweed rins 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.

I would, or had I seen the day
That treason thus could sell us
My auld grey head had lain in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll make this declaration
We're bought and sold for English gold:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.