A Parcel of Rogues in Our Nation

Scots poet Robert Burns (1759-1796) well knew the sad history of his once free country.  Power became more important than duty to those who should have led their nation, and time and again the Scots were sold out to the British until all hope was crushed at Culloden and with the Highland Clearances.  As a terrorist (thank you Mr. Biden) who believes that the entrenched and comfortable politicians of both parties in this country are working to preserve their own power rather than to serve the country, this poem by Burns is resonating strongly with me these days.

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in martial story!
Now Sark rins over Solway sands,
And 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 or 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!