FAREWEEL to a our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel evn to the Scottish name,
Sae famd in martial story.
Now Sark rins over Solway sands,
An Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where Englands province stands
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue,
Thro many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitors wages.
The English stell we could disdain,
Secure in valours 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 auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour,
Ill mak this declaration;
Were bought and sold for English gold
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
