I pull up to the rodeo grounds, I'm runnin' really late
"Hurry up partner", I heard calling from the gate
"You drew the pick," shouts a cowboy from above
The tension burns as I whip out my glove
"The bulls are meaner than a junk yard dog
Cody found out, he's still in a fog."
I grab my rope and put on my vest
I say a little prayer and hope for the best
The crowd's applaudin' for the last bull ride
As I climb the chutes to find my bull inside
I straddle the critter so big and strong
Surely I can stay for eight, it ain't that long
"Come on, you can do it," shouted the boys near the gate
"Buckle down on that critter, you'll be good for eight."
I nod my head, the gate busts open
I spur the bull good, I'm still a hopin'
That bull spins me around and jumps in the air
I'm gasping for a breath, but that bull don't care
Around and around I spin like an ol' tire
I hope eight seconds goes by before I expire
I can feel the rope start to release from my fist
Six seconds, seven seconds, "Please don't let me miss"
I hit the ground running, gettin' gored ain't no fun
The judges say, "Sorry kid, it's over and done."
Back to the truck and out of the gate I go
There's another rodeo tomorrow, I'll give 'em a show
Tomorrow I'll put on my gear and ride
Ain't no bull goin' to take away my pride.
L.M. Larson
|
