Luyện nghe bài hát The Parish Of Dunkeld

Oh, a parish, a terrible parish;
Oh, what a is that o' Dunkeld.
They hangit minister, droon'd their precentor,
Dang doun the steeple and the bell.

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

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

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

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

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