One day you wake up, look in the mirror and ask, when did my hair turn gray?
Well you look a little closer, I looked it wasn't gray yesterday.
Well that fifty year birthday has come and gone a little while back.
But by gar I'm still as good as ever, no one needs to cut me any slack.
You know I feel as good as ever, I could even ride the rough string.
Well it has been a year or two since I rode a bronc around the ring.
But that's only because I haven't had time, not because I'm old.
So I tell the wife I'm goin to find me a jackpot bronc ride, you're crazy I'm told.
Old man you're not young again, Notice, the twenty year old ladies no longer give you the eye.
Ride a bronc? Remember then it'll be to late to cry.
You go out and ride a bronc and they'll bring you home in a basket.
Well it put me a thinkin, I go to a jackpot bronc ride, I might come home in a casket.
So what can I do to prove I'm still alive, let my feelings out I can't hold?
Go write a poem about it, stand on a stage and make a fool of yourself, I'm told.
So here I stand, legs shaken, hands sweeten worse than before climbin on any mean old hide.
There's this big black pit in front of me, the stage sways so, darn sure this thing I can't ride.
I reach out to take the mike, it comes free slaps me up along side the ear.
If this was a mean old bronc at least I could throw my leg over and step clear.
Well got my words out, lived through this day, made it home at last.
One thing I can say, this time I came home without any plaster cast.
But you know what? Next year I'm lookin for that grandpa bronc ride.
Cause a cowboy don't belong on any stage, anyhow not whilest he's still on this side.