Bicycle Spaniard

And it's a long, long way to the top

But when you come down it's one headlong rush

You've got an itch to scratch the shiny bits of light

Hanging like stars, Hanging like stars

And Mary says, you're such a restless soul

My Bicycle Spaniard, my Magyar of coal

You've got an itch to find what's best left lost and cold

My Bicycle Spaniard, my poor restless soul

My Bicycle Spaniard, my poor restless soul