Robert Burns didn’t mince his words. In 1791, he looked back at the Union of 1707 and called it what it was: betrayal. Not by armies, but by “a coward few, for hireling traitor’s wages.” Bought and sold for English gold. “Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation” isn’t just a poem. It’s a reminder that Scotland’s greatest voices never accepted the idea that sovereignty was gone for good. Burns saw Bruce and Wallace in his mind’s eye and swore that even in his last hour, he’d still call treason by its name. Read his words. Feel the anger. And tell me Scotland doesn’t still recognise itself in every line.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Scotland has always carried its sovereignty, even when chipped away, even when diminished, it has never left our hands. That thought pushed me to design something simple but powerful. This emblem is not about kings or parliaments. It’s about us. The crown sits in our hands because sovereignty has always belonged to the people of Scotland. It is not gifted by a monarch or granted by Westminster. It survives because we choose to hold it. Behind it rises the sun, a new dawn, a reminder that light always breaks through the dark. Scotland has endured centuries of attempts to weaken, silence, and diminish us, but our sovereignty endures still. The motto says it plainly: By Right, By Strength, By Will. By right, because sovereignty is ours by law and history. By strength, because we have carried it through every trial. By will, because independence is not handed down, it is claimed. This is not a symbol of rebellion. It is a symbol of survival, of continuity, and of the truth that Scotland’s crown has never left our hands. This is one way I see our sovereignty. If it speaks to you, use it freely 👑 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

They wrapped the unicorn in chain, And crowned it wi’ a foreign reign, Called it union, called it kin, While takin’ all, and keepin’ in. They whispered soft: “Ye cannae stand, Too wee, too poor, ye need our hand.” Yet oil and whisky, wind and sea, A’ flow south, nae kept for thee. They telt us freedom breeds in strife, That breakin’ free would wreck our life, Better bide, be still, obey, And trust the crown tae guide the way. They gave us votes, but set the frame, A borrowed voice, a rigged-up game, Devolution dressed as might, While London holds the final right. This isnae love, nor equal share, It’s gilded chains we’re bade tae wear. But captors need the captive too, And Scotland’s strength is breakin’ through. For once we ken the truth sae clear, The only chain is built on fear. And fear will fade, as dawn will rise, When Scotland claims what’s hers, her prize.