oh what a parish a terrible parish oh what a parish is that o dunkeld 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 stell pat they gat and they brewed hielan whisky on sundays they drank it and ranted and sang o had you but seen how graceful it lookit to see the crammed pews sae socially joined macdonald the piper stood up in the poopit he made the pipes skirl out the music divine wi whiskey and beer they d curse and they d swear they d argue and fecht what ye daurna weel tell bout geordie and charlie they bothered fu rarely wi whisky they re worse than the devil himsel when the hairt cheerin spirit had mounted their garret tae a ball on the green they a did adjourn the maids wi coats kilted they skippit and liltit when tired they shook hands and then hame did return if the kirks a owre scotland held like social meetin s nae warnin ye d need from a far tinklin bell for true love and friends wad draw ye thegither far better than roarin the horrors o hell