You can see by the clothes that heâs wearing
That heâs a bronc rider by trade
Pockets full of dirt, snap buttons on his shirt
And his split-down boots are Tony Lama made
Greenbackâs are the ante-up on the entry fee
And heâs worn a lot of leather off the tree
Chorus:
Saddle up on a saddle bronc ride kicking holes up in the sky
Sunfish, stand, and suck back to the right
You canât get no higher than a buckinâ horse rider
with his hand on a hack-rein and buckles on his mind
Bareback and saddlebronc, draw and marking out
The Canadaâs are headed North, the buckaroos headed South
Fourty-nine ainât no line for those who ply the trade
Like devilâs rope and barbed wire â the two they are the same
Thereâs a silence behind the chutes that only he can hear
With the horse hair and the leather when all his thoughts are clear
And a long road and a short go never twice the same
And he rides the rank ones with his spurs up in the mane
Chorus
Instrumental
Thereâs a falcon on a fenceline and a coyote on the plains
Big cats up on the timberline and diamond backs in the sage
And the years and the miles and the wind carved the lines upon his face
And thereâs a hand-laid buckinâ horse saddle in the cowboyâs hall of fame
Chorus