I wish I had a dollar for every bronc I rode-
I’d settle for a nickel for the times that I’ve been throwed,
If I merely had a penny for the miles my eyes have scanned,
Bill Gates would go on welfare, and I’d be a wealthy man.
If heartaches went for dollars, and tears would bring in gold-
And I’d got paid for all the nights, I slept out in the cold.
If shattered dreams where banknotes, then be assured my friend-
That I would want for nothing, and I’d be a wealthy man.
Oh, if wealth were only measured, by the scars which I’ve acquired-
And the times my mouth and temper have conspired to get me fired.
And I was just rewarded for my “riding for the brand”-
I’d have more dough than Ross Perot, I’d be a wealthy man.
But wealth cannot be measured, by money in the bank-
Nor fleeting, foolish pleasure, nor riding broncs that’s rank...
If you’d convert to currency the places I have been-
I guess that I would rate among the world’s most wealthy men.