Don Edwards - The Strawberry Roan lyrics

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