"I'm getting too old for this", I says to Rusty- As I drop in my saddle, and measure my rein.
"I spent my last fifty apayin' our entries-
If I don't ride this un, we're walking again".
I pull my old hat low, and nod my head sharply-
The chute gate swings open, my pony explodes-
My spurs nail his shoulders, and I find his rythmn-
This ain't the first outlaw this cowboy has rode.
He's pawin' and kickin' and raisin' a ruckus-
He's twistin' so hard, that my boots fill with dirt-
He hits on all fours, then he goes to sunfishin'-
He just ripped the back right out of my shirt.
My legs commence achin', my head's nearly bustin'
My nose starts to bleed from the jars that I take-
But I know that I've rode him, I just heard the buzzer-
An eighty point ride, makes us sure of a stake.
I load up my riggin' then head for the "office"
To pick up my check before we hit the road-
And Rusty's still talkin' bout last week in Denver-
And the "Calico" hoss, and the way I got throwed.
I'm packin' it in boys, if I make the Finals.
This is my last chance, and I'm ridin' it bold-
December in Vegas is what I am plannin'
And ten head of stock, for a shot at the Gold.
But win, lose, or draw, friend; this is my last season-
To the last rodeo my old pickup has rolled.
My body's just taken it's last season's beatin'
I'm still a good cowboy, but gettin' too old.