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 !

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 steel we could disdain,
  Secure in valour's station;
But English gold has been our bane-
  Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !

O would, ere 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,
  I'll mak this declaration;
We're bought and sold for English gold-
 Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !

Robert Burns

Taken from "The Poetical works of Robert Burns" (London & Glasgow Collins' Clear-Type Press)
with the inscription "This Volume is Dedicated by kind permission to the
Greenock Burns Club (instituted 1802) The oldest Burns club in existence."

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