RODEO AND LIVING FREE
(Lucky Man LM-5835)
1975
Produced by Al LeDoux
Recorded: Ray Stevens Studio, Nashville
1.
FOURTH OF JULY RODEOS
(Chris Ledoux)
« © '74 Lehsem Songs, BMI »
Just about two hundred years ago they signed that declaration
Tellin' everybody in the whole wide world they're gonna start a brand new nation
From that day on the Forth of July has been a holiday
To the rich man poor man and everybody but the cowboys in the RCA
Well I get on the phone and call the airlines rent-a-cars and Greyhound stations
Cause I've entered bout thirteen rodeos out across the great big nation
Got the car tuned up the tanks full of gas I've got money in my hand
And if I ain't overdrawn by the end of the week at the bank I'm a lucky man
It's the Forth of July on the rodeo trail and it'll drive you insane
My wife's worried home by the telephone I'm on the road again
It's the Forth of July on the rodeo trail if I ever make it home I swear
I'm gonna to hang up my hat put up my riggin' sack
And for a month I'm gonna stay right there
[ guitar ]
Well I've been on the road about three days now and I haven't had a minutes rest
There's dark circles all around my bloodshot eyes and my face is now a whiskered mess
Boy I'd sure like a bath and a home cooked mean but for now I must be satisfied
With this double super-duper half cooked burger and a side of grease soaked french fries
Well the week's nearly over and I wonder to myself will I ever make it home alive
When a bronc fell on me up in Calgary when he slipped tryin' to make his high dive
And the plane and the pilot that we rented looked like surplus from World War I
And I thought any times about suicide but I haven't found myself a gun
It's the Forth of July on the rodeo trail...
**********
2.
WILLY THE WANDERING GYPSY AND ME
(Billy Joe Shaver)
« © '72 ATV Songs, BMI »
Three fingers whiskey pleasures a drinker
But moving does more than that drinking for me
Willy he tells me that doers and thinkers
Say moving's the closest thing to being free
He rosined his riggin he laid back his wages
He's dead cert on ridin' the big rodeos
My woman's tight with an overdue baby
And Willy keeps yelling hey big boy let's go
Willy you're wild as a Texas Blue Norther
Ready rolled from the same makins as me
And I reckon we'll ramble till hell freeze us over
Willy the wandering Gypsy and me
Ladies we surely will take up your pleasures
But I've got to worn you there never will be
A single soul living can put brand or handle
On Willy the wandering Gypsy and me
Well they dance on the mountains and they shout in the canyons
They swarm it ain't loose herd like the wild buffalos
Jammin' our heads full of figures and angles
And tellin' us stuff that we already know
Willy you're wild as a Texas Blue Norther...
I reckon we'll ramble till hell freeze us over
Willy the wandering Gypsy and me
**********
3.
HORSES AND CATTLE
(Bob Frank)
« © '73 Cletus Haegert Publishing, BMI »
My home's in Montana I wear a bandana
My spurs are silver my horse is a bay
And I've been a roamin' all over Wyoming
There's plenty of work but there ain't too much pay
Me and a few boys we signed on at Dubois
To feed through the winter and camp out awhile
Come a hard hittin' norther from the Montana border
We tallied the frozen ones mile after mile
Well they give you your three squares and a bunk to sleep there
And just enough wages to keep you around
But with no place to spend it and nowhere to send it
You can stay out of debt if you stay out of town
It's horses and cattle and a double rig saddle
With a stout line a catch twine and a good ropin' arm
Wherever there's ranches I've been takin' my chances
From sunrise to sunset since the day I was born
We struck out for Laramie early one Saturday
Spring was a breaking the grass turning green
Well I took a hand in some fast movin' brandin'
When they offered top wages at the Bar Seventeen
We followed a rodeo clear up to Codeo
Trying to ride me a bronco or two
Well I busted some hosses for two or three bosses
And lost all the wages that ever I drew
Well it's hell and high water for the Idaho border
Where I've got a gal if that letter don't lie
If she gives me a reason to stay through the season
I'll take her to Elko when the snow starts to fly
It's horses and cattle and a double rig saddle...
**********
4.
FINE AS WINE
(Eddie Rabbitt - Even Stevens)
« © '74 Screen Gems Music, BMI »
She's sweeter than the grapes growin' out in California
Softer than the fuzz on the sweetest Georgia peach
Warms you goin' down like a twenty-two year old brandy
When she loves me Lord she's fine fine as wine
She loves her rodeo man turns him every way but loose
Washes out all his Levi's and shines his cowboy boots
Watches him each Saturday bitin' the dust again
She takes him home puts him to bed and rubs him with linament
She's sweeter than the grapes growin' out in California...
[ guitar ]
Laying in the back seed with sugar at the wheel
Broken bones from my last ride is all my head can feel
And sugar sure gets tired Lord of all I've put her through
But I'll never find another gal who's sweeter or who's true
She's sweeter than the grapes growin' out in California...
She's sweeter than the grapes growin' out in California...
**********
5.
COWBOY IN THE CONTINENTAL SUIT
(Marty Robbins)
« © '73 Mariposa Music, BMI / Unichappell Music, BMI »
He walked out in the arena all dressed up to the brim
Said he just came down from a place called Highland Rim
Well he said he came to ride the horse the one they called the Brute
But he didn't look like a cowboy in the continental suit
We snickered at the way he dressed but he never said a word
He walked on by the rest of us if he hasn't heard
A tousand bucks went to the man who could ride this wild cayuse
A meaner horse was never born than the one they called the Brute
The horse that he was lookin' for was in chute number eight
He walked up very slowly put his hand upon the gate
We knew he was a throughbred when he pulled a sack o'Deuce
From the inside pocket of his conetinential suit
He rolled himself a quirly and he lit it standin' there
Blew himself a smoke ring and he watched it disappear
We thought he must be crazy when he opened up the gate
Standin' just inside was fifteen hundred pounds of hate
The buckskin tried to run him down but the stranger was too quick
He stepped aside and threw his arms around the horse's neck
And he pulled himself upon the back of the horse they called the Brute
Sat like he was born there in his continential suit
The Brute's hind end was in the air his front end on the ground
Kickin' and a squealin' tryin' to shake the stranger down
But the stranger wadn't give an inch he came to ride the Brute
And he came to ride the buckskin in a continential suit
I turned around to look at Jim and he was watchin' me
Said I don't believe the crazy things I think I see
But I think I see the outlaw the one they call the Brute
Ridden by a cowboy in a continential suite
The Brute came to a standstill ashamed that he'd been rode
By some city cowboy in some continential clothes
The stranger took his money and we don't know where he went
We don't know where he came from and we haven't seen him since
The moral of this story never judge by what they wear
Underneath some ragged clothes could be a millionaire
So everybody listen don't be fooled by this galoot
This sure enough bronc rider in his conetinential suit
**********
6.
WINNER
(Gary McMahan)
« © '74 Lonesome Jukebox Music, BMI »
When he was a boy dreamed of bein' a man
Probably dreamed every thing that a young boy can
He's a lover a fighter a saddle bronc rider
An all around hell of a hand
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And there's rivers of dance halls and wild red eyeballs
On the road to the big rodeo
Well the chutes are all loaded the riggins are set
Lord the cowboy's ready to ride
Well it's pull down his hat and he spit out his chew
There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight
The horse in chute eight he's a kicking the gate
Lord he's big and he's hard and he's crazy
And the chute boss is a hollerin' come on boys get on 'em
I'm commencin' to think you're all lazy
And the spot lights on the sawdust...
[ dobro - harmonica ]
With his spurs in his shoulders the horse comes unglued
It's like ridin' some kind of explosion
And the bronc he starts spinning the cowboy's a grinning
Doin' fine there in all the commotion
The crowd's on its feet the whistle she blows
And the pickup men rush to his side
As they pull him away he hears one of 'em say
Looks to me like a winnin' ride
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And it's all comin' true right in front of his eyes
Cause he's the feller that won the big rodeo
**********
7.
BUCKING MACHINE
(Chris Ledoux)
« © '74 Lehsem Songs, BMI »
I've rode lots of horses and I've won a few shows
Ridin' broncs at the big old rodeos
But the dang-dest contraption that I've ever seen
Is that bucket of bots called a buckin' machine
The kids they were all lined up to give the thing a go
And when I first saw it Lord it looked pretty slow
It jumped and it kicked then it turned back a twirled
Then I got to thinking I'll give it a whirl
So I pushed through the crowd and I talked to the man
Who had invented this here modified garbage can
I said I'm a twister and one of the best
I'm a wolf of the world boys I must confess
I'll bet you a hundred I said with a grin
I'll spur it so hard its sides will cave in
And the bolts and the screws that hold the dang thing together
Will fall down inside it there and short out its motor
Well the man he said son I'll take that bet
And I won't turn it till you think that you're set
So I got my riggin' and I cinched it on down
Then I said to old Sam go ahead and turn it on
Well it rattled and it groaned then it started to move
I spurred it every jump and Lord it felt mighty smooth
The foam rubber was a flying right off of its old neck
And the tin underneath it was startin' to crack
[ harmonica ]
I looked at the man and I started to say
I'll win me that hundred fore the end of the day
Then he grabbed a big ol' lever with a little sly grin
Jammed it up to high gear and locked it right on in
With a snatch and a jerk and a sharp stabbin' pain
I felt like a hobo tied to an old freight train
My head it went to poppin' and I saw all the starts
The Big Dipper the Milky Way and the planet they call Mars
The next thing I knew I was right there on the ground
Just about thirty feet away from that laughin' crowd
So I payed up my hundred and I limped on away
And the words the man said I still remember today
So you're a wolf of the world and a real tough twister
Well listen real close to some good advise Mister
Keep a ridin' them old broncs if you're still feeling mean
But you'd better keep clear of Sam's buckin' machine
**********
8.
TIGHT LEVIS AND YELLOW RIBBON
(Glenn Sutton - Rusty Steagall)
« © '74 Peer Music, BMI / Texas Red Songs, BMI »
I was born and raised in the Red Clay Hills of Texas
In the land where the grass gets only beer can tall
That's where I learned to cuss and fight and chew Brown Mule Tobacco
Fix windmills fore I was five years old
I rode every head of stock from the Gulf to Kansas City
And running wild is all I've ever known
But this cowboy's got a weakness for tight Levis and Yellow Ribbons
And there's something bout 'em I can't leave alone
Tight Levis and Yellow Ribbons make a cowboy swim a river
That before he jumps he knows is way too wide
And they'll make him throw a saddle on a bronc he's never seen
And one he knows he'll never break to ride
[ guitar ]
I met her at a rodeo in Douglas Arizona
I'd drawn the rankest horse a man could draw
Well I rode him tall and spurred him high and when I made the whistle
The crowd went wild but she was all I saw
That night we had a beer or two with friends of mine from Dallas
She smiled and said she loved the Texas drawl
And I felt like Roy Rogers did in all those cowboy movies
Cause I became the hero got the money girl and all
Tight Levis and Yellow Ribbons...
Yeah they'll make him throw a saddle...
**********
9.
PAINTED LADIES
(Fred Koller)
« © '74 Coal Miners Music, BMI »
By a blacken wood stove in a run down old bunkhouse
Sat an old buckaroo with his hat in his hand
And he lowered his voice as he told me about 'em
Them wild western women that wore no mans brand
Well the old man remembered they drive you plum crazy
Dancing for nickels neath the bar rooms oil light
We come off the trail and they be waitin' for us
Them pretty painted ladies in dresses so bright
Where's all the pretty painted ladies where's all the dance hall girls
Where are you Lil are you still young and pretty
Are you waitin' for me at the end of the trail
Slowly they'd swirl with the ranchers and the wranglers
While the pie in a plate on into the night
They'd be kickin' their skirts past the worry raw hiders
Perty painted ladies I miss you tonight
Well I told the old timer that they'd all moved on years ago
No more perty Lil no more Buffalo Sal
But he said son some nights I can see 'em
A singin' and a dancin' at the end of the trail
Where's all the pretty painted ladies...
**********
10.
TIE A KNOT IN THE DEVIL'S TAIL
(Joel Gardner)
« © '74 Lehsem Songs, BMI »
Way up high in the Sierra peaks where the yellow jack pines grow tall
Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs had a roundup camp last fall
Oh they'd taken the horses and the runnin' irons and may be a dog or two
And they swore they'd brand all long ear calves that came within their view
And any old doggie that flapped long ears and didn't brush up by day
Got his long ears whittled and his old hid scorched in a most artistic way
Now one fine day old Sandy Bob he throwed his easy go down
Well I'm sick of the smell of this here burnin' hair and allows I'm a goin' to town
[ harmonica ]
So they saddles up and they hits 'em a lope for it weren't no sign of a ride
And them was the days when a buckaroo could oil up his insides
Oh they starts her off at Kentucky Bar at the head of a whiskey row
And they winds up down at the depot house some forty drinks below
And then sets up and turns around and goes her the other way
And to tell you the god forsaken truth them boys got stewed that day
As they was a ridin' back to camp a packin' a pretty good load
Well who should they meet but the devil himself a prancin' down the road
[ guitar ]
Say he you ornery cowboy skunks you better hunt your holes
For I've come up from hells Rim Rock to gather in your souls
Says Sandy Bob old devil be damned we boys is kinda tight
And you ain't gonna get no cowboy souls without one hell of a fight
So Snady Bob punched a hole in his rope and he swang her straight and true
And he lapped it onto the devils' horns and he taken his dallies too
Now Buster Jiggs was a reita man with his gut line coiled up neat
So he shakes her out and he built him a loop and he lassoed up the devil's hind feet
[ harmonica ]
Well they stretched him out and they tailed him down while the iron was gettin' hot
And they cropped and swallow forked both his ears and they branded him up a lot
They pruned him up whit a dehorning saw and they knotted his tail for a joke
And then rode off and left him there neck to a blackjack oak
So if your ever up high in the Sierra peaks and you hear one hell of a wail
You'll know it's that devil a bellerin' about them knots tied in his tail
**********