Luyện nghe bài hát Parish Of Dunkeld / Curlew

Oh, what a parish, a terrible
Oh, what a parish is o' Dunkeld.
They hangit their minister, their precentor,
Dang the steeple and fuddled the bell.

The was doun but the kirk was still staunin',
They a lum whaur the bell used to hang.
A stell-pat they gat and they brewed Hielan'
On Sundays they drank it and and sang.

O, had you but seen how it lookit,
To see the crammed pews sae joined.
the piper stood up in the poopit,
He made the pipes skirl out the divine.

Wi' whiskey and beer they'd curse and they'd
They'd argue and fecht what ye weel tell.
Bout and Charlie they bothered fu' rarely
Wi' they're worse than the devil himsel'.

When the hairt-cheerin' spirit had mounted garret,
Tae a on the green they a' did adjourn.
The maids wi' coats kilted, they and liltit,
When tired they hands and then hame did return.

If the kirks a' owre Scotland like social meetin's
Nae warnin' ye'd need from a bell,
For true love and friends wad ye thegither
Far than roarin' the horrors o' hell.