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.