The 8-3-0
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He was driving up to Mallaig, Glenfinnan, Bygloss, Shiel
Any forelock I alert, content behind the wheel
The road was getting narrower, the sign said slow
It's the Highland daily dodgems, it's the 830
There is a natural assumption that A roads are wide
Enough to take a car, and one the other side
Tourist information will never, never tell
It's like driving through heaven on a road made for hell
'Cause it's a single track, you can't turn back
The stories are all the same
Of the tourists leaving Corpach, never seen again
Don't go on the 830
Don't go on the 830
There's a joke in the highlands it's called a passing place
Where French stay for chips, and
English stay for days and days and days
When lorries lose control, give one last wish
Don't let me die under twenty tons of fish
'Cause it's a single track, you can't turn back
A nightmare without ten
Eyes ahead cause Nigel Mansell's waiting round the bend
Don't go on the 830
Don't go on the 830
Whoever called this road a road was telling little lies
The 830's a sheep track in very thin disguise
Italian caravanettes driving on the right
Meeting Wallace-Arlo coaches in the middle of the night
Of the man that's stopping progress, a theory's going around
That he owns the biggest breaker's yard this side of Mallaig town
You can see him in the gloaming, towing wrecks from where they lie
And he turns them into girders for the bridge across to Skye
And it's a single track, he's in Mallaig and now he feels no pain
He's dumped his car, he's in the bar, he's steaming back by train
On a single track, you can't turn back, the moral's very plain
It's grand to visit Mallaig, it's safer by Reigrain
Don't go on the 830
Don't go on the 830
Don't go on the 830