Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing
Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns' flattened fifths wailing
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake

And it's, "All come willing now; spend a shilling now
Stack up the back of your new motor-car"
There's home-dyed woolens, and wee plastic Cuillins
The day of the Broadford Bazaar

Out of the north, no oil-rigs are drifting
And jobs for the many are down to the few
Blue-bottle choppers, they visit no longer
Like flies to the jampots, they were just passing through

And it's, "All come willing now; spend a shilling now
Stack up the back of your new motor-car"
Where once stood oil-rigs so phallic
There's only swear-words in Gaelic
To say at the Broadford bazaar

All kinds of people come down for the opening
Crofters and cottiers, white settlers galore
And up on the hill, there's an old sheep that's dying
But it had two new lambs born just a fortnight before

And it's, "All come willing now; spend a shilling now
Stack up the back of your new motor-car"
We'll take pounds, francs and dollars from the well-heeled
And stamps from the Green Shield
The day of the Broadford Bazaar

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