Broadford Bazaar

Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing.

Vivas, cortinas, weaving in their wake.

With hot, red-faced drivers, horns flattened, fists whaling,

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]

[blessed?] [cuchulains?]

[cuchulain == mythical irish hero --- wee plastic cuchulains?]



[jo-l@kcbbs.gen.nz (jo lobb) explains: broadford is a town on

Skye (where the road that passes dun ringill leaves the main

Road, incidentally) and skye's famous cuillin hills are nearby.

I suppose tourists could be expected to buy wee plastic models

Of spectacular hills .... also, the cuillin hills are ``also

Known as the coolins or cuchullins, possibly after an ossianic

Hero...'', so maybe wee plastic model heroes do make sense, after

All.]



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 [wild?] settlers galore.

[crofter == farmer renting land]

[cottier == farmer renting land]

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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