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
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They sailed away on that gallant barque, Roy Neal and his fair young bride They had ventured all on that bounding ship That danced on the silvery tide
When two lovers meet down beside the green bower When two lovers meet down beneath the green tree When Mary, fond Mary, declared to her lover "You have
By the sweet bay of Dublin, while carelessly strolling I sat myself down by a green myrtle shade Reclined on the beach, as the wild waves were rolling
How blithe each morn was I tae see My lass came o'er the hill She tripped the burn and ran tae me I met her wi' good will CHORUS: Oh the broom, the bonnie
Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald comes down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly, Here's to the king and
Prepare you sweet flowers, for winter advances And drink well the sunlight that touches your form. Draw strength from the earth and repay her with beauty
She was in the flowery garden when first she caught my eye And I just a marching soldier she smiled as I passed by The flowers she held were fresh and
Oh our schooner and our sloop in Ferryland they do lie. They are already rigged to be bound for the ice, All you lads of the Southern we will have you
I have funds tae buy me whiskey Monie funds tae call my ain But if I should get to fu' o' water Wha's the man that would carry me hame? CHORUS: And if
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
By the storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing The spray strung like jewels in her hair And the sea tore the rocks near the desolate landing as though
CHORUS Oh, there're sober men and plenty, And drunkards barely twenty, There are men of over ninety That have never yet kissed a girl. But give me a ramblin
Come through the heather, around him gather, Ye're a' the welcomer early Around him cling wi' a' your kin, For wha'll be King but Charlie? Come through