Luyện nghe bài hát The Parish Of Dunkeld

O, a parish, a terrible parish,
O, what a parish is o' Dunkel',
They hangit their minister, droon'd precentor
doun the steeple, and fuddled the bell.
The steeple was doun, but the was still staunin',
They a lum whaur the bell used to hang,
A stellpat they gat and they brewed whisky,
On Sundays they drank it, and and sang.
O, had you but how graceful it lookit
To see the cramm'd pews sae socially
Macdonald the piper stuck up in the
He the pipes skirl out music divine.
Wi' whisky and beer, they'd curse and swear
They'd argy and what ye daurna weel tell
'Bout Geordie and they bothered fu' rarely
Wi' whisky they're than the devil himsel'.
When the spirit had mounted their garret
To a ball on the green they a' did
Maids wi' coats kilted, steppit and liltit
When tired they hands, and then hame did return.
If the a'owre Scotland held like social meetin's
Nae warning' ye'd from a far-tinklin' bell
For a true love and friendship wad draw ye
Far than roarin' the horrors o' hell.