You are a yuppie biker,

you came upon the scene,

just to keep the prices up,

on Harley's new machines!

You bought it brand new, 

You lavished it with chrome,

then splashed on some flashy paint,

and now regard this creation,

entirely your own!

You polish it by day,

and talk about it by night,

the only time you ride,

is when the sun is bright.

After all what's the paint,

if you can't be seen?

When owning one of these shiny new,

Harley D. Machines!

You trailer it to here,

you haul it over there,

if it weren't for your pickup truck,

it would never go nowhere!

You hang out at the dealership,

and act like the rest,

but you stand out like a sore thumb,

in your designer chap's and vest.

Harley T-shirt n leather jacket,

..you really think your cool,

but that's not what the little girls say,

when you're cruising round their school!

It always seems to amuse me,

how after just one beer,

you usually manage to find your own bike,

but can't find your way out of first gear.

Iv'e seen the way you ride...

man its got to be a sin.

if it bears any resemblance to the way you walk,

it's sure to make most women grin.

Between the manly stud you are,

and the flashy chrome and paint,

when you pull up at an intersection,

you're sure the girls will faint.

Then fate would have it,

the answer to your dreams,

a firm young biker bitch,

the trophy of your scheme.

She pulled up beside you at the light,

on a low slung FXR,

but the embarrassing way she left you in the dust,

now we both wish you'd have kept your car!