I was layin' around just a-spendin' my time
Out of a job I ain't holding a dime
A feller steps up and he says, "I suppose
You're a bronc fighter by looks of your clothes"
"You figures me right, I'm a good one" I claim
"Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?"
He says "I got one, got a bad one to buck
At throwin' good riders, he's had lots of luck"
He says this old pony he ain't never been rode
That the boys that gets on him is bound to get throw'd
Well I gets all excited and I asked what he'd pay
To ride that old pony for a couple of days
He offers a ten spot, I says, "I'm your man
'Cause the bronc never lived that I couldn't fan"
The horse never lived no he never drew breath
That I couldn't ride till he starved plum to d**h
I don't like to brag but I gots this to say
That I ain't been piled in many a day
Says he, "Get your saddle, I'll give you the chance"
So I get in his buckboard then we drifts to his ranch
I stays until morning then rides out to chuck
I steps out to see this old right looking buck
Down in the horse corral, standing alone
Was this old cavallo, the strawberry roan
His legs was all spavined, his gut pigeon toes
Little pig eyes, and a big roman nose
Little pin ears that touch at the tip
And a double square iron was stamped on his hip
U-necked and old with a long lower jaw
I could see with one eye he's a regular outlaw
I puts on my spurs, and I'm sure feeling fine
I turns up my hat and I picks up my twine
I throws that loop on him, and well I know then
That before he gets rode, I will sure earn my ten
I get my blinds on him and it sure was a fight
Next comes my saddle, I screws it down tight
Then I piles on him, I raises the blinds
I'm riding his millim to see him unwind
Well he pulls his whole neck and I guess he's unwound
For he seems to quit living down there on the ground
He goes up 'twards the east, comes down 'twards the west
Just stay in his millim, I'm doing my best
He sure is frog-walker and heaves a big sigh
He only lacked wings for to be on the fly
Well he turns his old belly right up to the sun
He sure is a sunfishing son of a gun
He's the worst bucker I've seen on the range
He could turn on a nickle and he'll give you some change
Well while he's a-buckin he squeals for a show
And I'll tell you that pony has sure got my goat
I claim that no foolin' this bronc could sure step
I'm still in my saddle and I'm building a rep
Well he hits on all fours, and he suns up his side
And I don't see how he keeps from a shedding his hide
I loses my stirrup and also my hat
I'm a grabbin' for leather I'm as blind as a bat
With a phenomenal jump he goes up on high
And I'm setting on nothing way up in the sky
Then I turns over twice and I comes back to earth
Just a-sitting there cussing the day of his birth
Now I know that there's horses I ain't able to ride
And some of them's living, they haven't all died
And I bets all my money that the man ain't alive
Who can stay with that bronc till he makes his high dive