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
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