The Parish Of Dunkeld lyrics

O, what a parish, a terrible parish,
O, what a parish is that o` Dunkel`,
They hangit their minister, droon`d their precentor
Dang doun the steeple, and fuddled the bell.
The steeple was doun, but the Kirk was still staunin`,
They biggit a lum whaur the bell used to hang,
A stellpat they gat and they brewed Hieland whisky,
On Sundays they drank it, and ranted and sang.

O, had you but seen how graceful it lookit
To see the cramm`d pews sae socially join
Macdonald the piper stuck up in the poopit
He made the pipes skirl out music divine.

Wi` whisky and beer, they`d curse and they`d swear
They`d argy and fecht what ye daurna weel tell
`Bout Geordie and Cherlie they bothered fu` rarely
Wi` whisky they`re worse than the devil himsel`.

When the heart-cheerin` spirit had mounted their garret
To a ball on the green they a` did adjourn
Maids wi` coats kilted, they steppit and liltit
When tired they shook hands, and then hame did return.

If the kirks a`owre Scotland held like social meetin`s
Nae warning` ye`d need from a far-tinklin` bell
For a true love and friendship wad draw ye thegither
Far better than roarin` the horrors o` hell