By day we sweat behind the plow
Of a runaway oxen team
At night we ride through mansions of glory
On suicide machines
Sprung from the barn on rural strasses
Spoked wheels and leather seats under our arses
Whoooo, Baby this berg will feel the wrath
Of our velocipedes along the cobbled path!
Whooo We must get home before the night watchmen
Patrol the streets and send us home by ten
But we’ll drink as much as the Heidelberg Tun.Cuz Tramps like us, Baby we were born to run...
(The You Tube didn’t give us a translation of “On The Bridge” so i made up my own.)
Oh, you are so-o-o-o-o bad!!