Farewell to all our Scottish fame   Farewell our ancient glory   Farewell even to our Scottish name   Sae fam'd in martial story   Now Sark runs over the 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 gile 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 I had seen the day   That treason thus could sell us   My auld gray head had lain in clay   Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!   But pith and power, till my last hour   I'll make this declaration   We were bought and sold for English gold:   Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!