One More Ride

This poem was like one of those unpredictable bulls I see when I watch the PBR. They start in one direction and all of a sudden make a quick lunge, a belly roll and you're looking at the sky. I had the first line in the back of my mind for over a year. I kept looking at it, trying to shoe-horn it into one direction. Then, all of a sudden, another image came charging out of the gate. Several years ago, I used part of this poem to promote a marathon of rodeo-related movies on Encore Westerns. Later, I added the Post Script. Hope you enjoy it.

One More Ride
He can throw a rope in a figure eight
but he just can’t seem to stand up straight.
What isn’t broke, is bruised or hurt
from spendin’ time down in the dirt
while Brahma’s do their victory dance
all up his spine and down his pants.
But he tapes his broken bones real tight
so he can ride tomorrow tonight
cause you know way down deep inside,
all he wants is one more ride.

He’s a rodeoin’ cowboy.
He’s an old bull ridin’ fool.
And it’s taught him lots of lessons
that he never learned in school.
Like bein’ tough and bein’ true.
Get up when you’re knocked down.
And the inner strength to cowboy up
when no one is around.

Each weekend he is on the go
hittin’ every rodeo.
He hides his pain with jokes and smiles
and after several hundred miles
he parks his truck and pays his fee
and wonders who his draw will be.
He drinks draft beer and cheap mescal
and shoots the bull with all his pals.
And each one, way down deep inside
is hopin’ they get one more ride.
In the morning he drinks coffee black,
pulls out his gear and checks his tack.
Ace bandages wrap round his joints
and with some Bengay he anoints
each aching bone and muscle strain
as he prepares for yet more pain.

Cause, he’s a rodeoin’ cowboy.
He’s an old bull ridin’ fool.
Some say he ornery as a goat
and stubborn as a mule.
But he’s a rodeoin’ cowboy
and way down deep inside
he thinks and dreams of nothing else
but winning one more ride.

At home, his darlin’ minds the place.
There’s chores to do and kids to chase.
She works real hard the fear to hide
when she knows it’s time for his next ride.
That evenin’, staring at the phone
she wonders if he’s comin’ home.
Tears well up cause she worries so
but she would never let him know.
As a cowboy’s wife you learn to hide
the fear that comes with one more ride.

Cause he’s a rodeoin’ cowboy
born for broncs and bulls and blood
and she knows he won’t be happy
lest he’s playin' in the mud.
Yeah, he’s a rodeoin' cowboy
and she’s there by his side
and will be when the strings run out
and he’s had his one last ride.

Jeff Hildebrandt copyright 2005

(Post Script)
On Sunday’s he’s in Cowboy Church
cause that’s the cowboy way.
He knows that Jesus gives him strength
to face each unknown day.
He knows what ever happens
the Lord is by his side
so he saddles up with confidence
when it’s time for his next ride.