The Cross Bar Of My Bike

A song all Dublin lads should’ve sung to their childhood sweethearts
The daftest love song ever written!



Oh Sally-Ann,you know I’m not the romantic type
But I’d really like to ask you out
I haven’t got a lot of money
And I wouldn’t know where to take you
But if I asked you would you come
For a ride on the cross bar of my bike
You know I’m not the romantic type
But if I held you nice and tight
And promised you wouldn’t fall off
Would you sit up front
Hold onto my handlebars
And ride with me for a while
Oh Sally-Ann,you know I’m not the romantic type
But if I asked you really nicely
Would you come, please, oh pretty pleeeeease,
For a ride on the cross bar of my bike
We could freewheel down the hill
And take a spin round Phoenix Park
Oh Sally-Ann,you know I’m not the romantic type
And my bike’s a bit on the rusty side,
The spokes are bent
And the paintworks peeling
But I can't half pedal fast
You know I’m not the romantic type
But if I took a picnic box
And we stopped down by the fish pond
We could lie awhile in the grass
Play hide and seek and
Look for forget-me-nots
String daisies into chains and
I’d even try to catch a duck
We won’t be going close (or even any where near)
To the Wellington monument
As it might give me bright ideas
Oh Sally-Ann,you know I’m not the romantic type
But I’d love to take you for a ride
On the crossbar of my bike