Luyện nghe bài hát The Parish Of Dunkeld

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