such a parcel of rogues in a nation

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.