Make An Eight
If the good lords a-willin’, and the creek don’t rise.
Ill bare down and make an eight second ride.
But if I fail to make that ride, ill still hold my head up high,
And draw that bronc another time.
Well the good lord was a-willin’
He was on my side.
I got to draw that bronc for a re-ride.
I looked that old mare straight in the eyes,
And said im going to make one hell of a ride.
Well I sat down on that buck-skin mare
Stuck my hand in my riggin
And pulled my hat down over my ears.
Well she bailed outa there like she was on fire.
My dual-rals were a clicking
As she jumped higher
She bucked to the left
She bucked to the right
But I stuck it to her with all my might.
Well I went the full eight but I wanted more,
So I just juiced her til the pickup man said no more.
So I bailed off,
Threw my hat in the air.
And had one hell of a grin
From ear to ear.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.