Rob

By robbryce

... THE PARISH OF DUNKELD

.....early Wednesday evening, driving to my bothy in the Perthshire hills - I was ambling into the village of Dunkeld - when I suddenly spotted these two lovely young people at the entrance to Dunkeld House Hotel ....

God, I nearly drove off the road .... ! Did I really see what I thought I had seen ..... had it been a bad ( or good ) whisky?

In fact, it was a photo shoot organised by Claire and Rachel for a submission to the Royal Opera House in London, by Claire, of her make up work.

So, if you have any connections out there, please do commend the enterprise and creativity of Clare (right of frame) to anyone you know in operatic or thespian circles in London. ( I didn't have my Canon in the LandRover hence the iPhone pic)

I hope Claire is successful, she certainly deserves an interview.

By the way, here's the the lyrics to the music THE PARISH OF DUNKELD by Silly Wizard. ( I'm very happy to interpret to anyone who wants to know what it means !!! )

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.

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