From: David Chamberlain <NOCRAP_dchmbrln@ameritech.net>
Date: Tue, 05 Nov 2002 04:18:43 GMT


Rodeo Rider
Alex Bevan

Capo II

          D
An he was born in the city, 
   A
He taught high school history,
     G                               D
His thoughts, they just drift to the past,
                      A
Stories of yesterday, Tales of the western way,
G                          D
Slowly grew wings with his plans,
        Em
'Til he left that brick prison, 
      A
That some folks call school,
       Em                     A     A7
With a second hand pack and a sign.

Working the carnivals,
Tent shows and gambling halls,
He blew it all to get high,
And he's a high hand with the ladies,
and a hell raiser too,
He lives in the world that he most wanted to.


       D              A
Oh, he wanted to be a rodeo rider,
G                             D             A
Silver trimmed saddles, they shine for the crowd,
      D                       A
He'll end up his days ridin' fence in Montana,
G                       D
On the high ground, his dreamin' gets done,
         Bm   G  A        Em  A        D
He sings, Oh, Oh my, my,  Oh- oh,  my, my…

Year after year, he'd go follow the spurs and rope,
A moth drawn to the candle flame light,
Year after year, he'd go follow the rodeo,
And soon, he'll be too old to ride
Twelve years out of college,
He got nothin' to show,
The paper just hangs on the wall.

Last year in Santa Fe', he took up his final pay,
An left everything 'cept his pride,
Busted up bruised and spent,
old bones too tired to mend,
Don't dim the lights in his eyes,
He and his lady, gonna move to Mon'tan,
Build them a home on a big sky ranch.