So you think your going tae the North to spend a holiday Cause your vaguely Scottish on your Mother's side And you've heard of ancient glories both renowned in song and story Kilts and Haggis, Andy Stewart and Rock Clyde
Ye go up by Crye and Larrick that's the gateway to North And the scenery with please your eyes I'm sure Ye take oot your picnic basket cause your car has blown a gasket In the middle of a place called Rannoch Moor
So you telephone the garage listed in the tourist guide That was published for you by the R.A.C. But by design or by intention or they just forgot to mention That the garage closes down by half past three
So you're towed behind this tractor to a corrugated shed That's surrounded by farm implements and carts And you scratch your head and wonder why you ever bought a Honda Cause they'll to send to Tokyo for the parts
So you board the train for Obin and get the boat to Mull Feeling like you've had a night upon the tiles You paid eighty pence for coffee with a tang of diesel oil You're experiencing the swindle of the Isles.
But pulse begins to quicken with the thoughts of berry pickin' So you take a trip to Gorry for a spell With some Wellies of your mother's the she bought at Ally Brothers And a Gideon Bible pinched from your hotel
So you're stand pickin' rasps being stung to death by wasps The midges and the clags are makin' free And the bairns have ate the berries and contracted dysentery Cause last week they sprayed the crop with DDT
So you're heading back to Birmingham more water logged than tanned But no signs of habitation can you see When you thought you were in Barrick your were actually in Larrick Cause some vandal change the signpost in Dundee