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!