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Parcel of Rogues


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Fareweel to a' our Scottish game,

Fareweel it's ancient glory,

Fareweel ev'n to integrity and honour,

Sae fam'd in words of glory.

Now darkness reigns o'er games a fitba',

An' Regan rins taewards damnation ,

To mark where Liewell's province stands-

Such a parcel of rogues in a

nation!

What force or guile could not

subdue,

Thro' many wondrous ages,

Is wrought now by a coward few,

For hireling traitor's wages.

The punishments we could disdain,

Secure in valour's station,

But Liewell's gold has been our bane-

Such a parcel of rogues in a

nation!

O would, or I had seen the day that treason thus might sell us,

My auld grey head had lien in clay, Wi' Struth and loyal Wallace!

But pith and power, till my last hour,

I'll mak this declaration; We're bought and sold for

Liewell's gold-

Such a parcel of rogues in a

nation!

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