Dĺžka piesne: 03:12
When he was a boy dreamed of beinâ a man
Probably dreamed every thing that a young boy can
Heâs a lover, a fighter, a saddle bronc rider
An all-around hell of a hand
Chorus
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And thereâs 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 cowboyâs ready to ride
Well itâs pull down his hat and he spit out his chew
Thereâll be a hot time in the old town tonight
The horse in chute eight, heâs a kickinâ the gate
Lord, heâs big and heâs hard and heâs crazy
And the chute boss is a hollerinâ
ãCome on boys, get on Ãem. Iâm commencinâ to think youâre all lazyä
Chorus
Instrumental riff
With his spurs in his shoulders, the horse comes unglued
Itâs like ridinâ some kind of explosion
And the bronc he starts spinninâ, the cowboyâs a grinninâ
Doinâ fine there in all the commotion
The crowdâs on its feet, the whistle she blows
And the pick-up men rush to his side
As they pull him away, he hears one of them say
ãLooks to me like a winninâ rideä
Chorus (with change)
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And itâs all cominâ true, right in front of his eyes
ÃCuz heâs the feller who won the big rodeo
Probably dreamed every thing that a young boy can
Heâs a lover, a fighter, a saddle bronc rider
An all-around hell of a hand
Chorus
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And thereâs 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 cowboyâs ready to ride
Well itâs pull down his hat and he spit out his chew
Thereâll be a hot time in the old town tonight
The horse in chute eight, heâs a kickinâ the gate
Lord, heâs big and heâs hard and heâs crazy
And the chute boss is a hollerinâ
ãCome on boys, get on Ãem. Iâm commencinâ to think youâre all lazyä
Chorus
Instrumental riff
With his spurs in his shoulders, the horse comes unglued
Itâs like ridinâ some kind of explosion
And the bronc he starts spinninâ, the cowboyâs a grinninâ
Doinâ fine there in all the commotion
The crowdâs on its feet, the whistle she blows
And the pick-up men rush to his side
As they pull him away, he hears one of them say
ãLooks to me like a winninâ rideä
Chorus (with change)
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And itâs all cominâ true, right in front of his eyes
ÃCuz heâs the feller who won the big rodeo