Parish of Dunkeld
"O, what a parish, a terrible parish,
O, what a parish is that at Dunkel',
They hang-it their minister, droon'd their precentor,
Dang doun the steeple, and fuddled the bell.
The steeple was doun, but the Kirk was still staunnin'
They bigget a lum whaur the bell used to hang,
A sell-pat they gat, and they brewed Hieland whisky,
On Sundays they drank it and ranted and sang."
Trad. (probably not Dunkeld, but ...)
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