Fareweel to a’ our British fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev’n to the British name,
Sae fam’d in global story.
Now Frome rins over Solent sands,
An’ Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where Brexit’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 Johnson’s few,
For offshore traitor’s wages.
Europe’s hand we did disdain,
In “Sovereignty’s” fixation;
For Tory lies have been our bane –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Auld Scotland tak’s a hindward glance
And kens what is afore us
Oor “precious Union” has nae chance
We’ve had enough of Boris
But pith and power, till my last hour,
I’ll mak this declaration;
Doomed to fail this Brexit tale-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Sent in by Richard Gracie