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1993Writer(s): Curley Fletcher, Nathaniel H. Vincent, Fred Howardfeat. Chris LeDouxI was hanging round town, just spending my timeBeing out of a job and not earning a dimeA fellow walks up, and he says, ''I supposeYou''re a bronc rider, from the looks of your clothes''''Well, you figured me right, and I''m a good one, I claimWould you happen to have any outlaws to tame?''He says, ''I''ve got one and a good one to buckAt throwing top riders, he''s had lots of luck''He says this here''s one pony that''s never been rodeAnd the man that gets on him is bound to get throwedI got all heat up and I asked what he''d payTo ride this old nag for a couple of daysWell, he offered me ten, and I says, ''I''m your manFor the bronc isn''t living that I couldn''t fan''He says, ''Get your saddle, I''ll give you the chance''So we hopped in his buckboard and rode to his ranchOut in the horse corral, standing aloneIs an old cavallo, a strawberry roanLittle pin ears that touch at the tipA big 44 brand upon his left hipHe was spavined all round, and he had pigeon toesLittle pig eyes and a big roman noseU-necked and old, with a long lower jawYou could tell at a glance he''s a regular outlawWell, I buckle on my spurs, and I''m sure feeling fineI pull down my hat and I pick up my twineThrow my loop on him and well I know thenBefore he gets rode, I''ll sure earn my tenI get the blinds on him with a terrible fightNext comes the saddle, and I cinch him up tightThen I step on him and raise up the blinds''Get out of the way, boys, he''s bound to unwind''Well, I threw him his head, and I''ll say he unwoundHe seemed to quit living down here on the groundWent up in the east and come down in the westI''m sitting up on him and doing my bestHe sure was a frog-walker, he heaved a big sighHe only lacked wings for to be on the flyTurned his old belly right up to the sunHe sure was a sunfishing son of a gunHe''s about the worst bucker I''ve seen on the rangeHe could turn on a nickle and give you some changeI lost both my stirrups and also my hatI''m reaching for leather and blind as a batHe come down on all fours, and he went up on highAnd he left me a-spinning up there in the skyTurned over twice and I come down to the earthAnd I lit into cussing the day of his birthNow I know there''s ponies that I cannot rideThere''s some of them living, they haven''t all diedBut I''ll bet my money there''s no man aliveWho can stay with old Strawberry when he makes his high dive