Was just a whippersnapper—
I really had no sense.
I’d wait fer them wild broncos
to sidle by the fence.

Then leap upon their mangy backs
from the very top rail-board,
grab their mane, clench my knees,
an’ holler to the Lord.

A wilder ride ya never saw
on each wily untamed horse—
they’d rare an’ kick both hind feet out,
land me on my butt, of course.

I didn’t have a speck a fear,
an’ rarely I got hurt,
a screamin’ an’ a cussin’,
an’ whippin’ with my quirt.

First I’d see the sky of blue,
an’ then I’d see the ground,
as that bronco bucked me up,
an’ then he’d buck me down.

I’ve been thrown in cow-pies,
an’ mud up to my knees,
landed up against the barn,
an’ scraped off ‘neath some trees.

I never seemed to get it
when I was just a kid—
I thought I was Gene Autry,
an’ could ride the way he did.

But when I grow’d into a man,
made up my mind to go
try an’ make my fortune
ridin’ in the rodeo.

That proves that I ain’t got no sense,
an’ my brains I’m sittin’ on,
‘cause hangin’ out with cowboys
shoulda taught me I was wrong.

You’d think a feller’d learn
with his backside sore an’ hurtin’,
but liniment an’ whiskey
left me feelin’ naught for certain

Now, I don’t believe in dyin’
just to do the reckless thing,
or landin’ me in traction
with a nurse I’d have to ring.

I only joined up anyways
to have a little fun,
but ever’time I drew a horse—
he’d be the orn’ry one.

Guess I’ll grab my saddlebags,
an’ go back to the ranch,
get married to that neighbor girl,
I think her name was Blanche.

I’ll settle down an’ have some kids,
an’ if they’re on the fence,
I’ll tell ‘em how it come to be—
I acquired this horse sense.

Buckin Broncos Cowboy Poetry
by Tamara Hillman
©2001