There's a hundred years of history
and a hundred before that
All gathered in the thinkin'
Goin' on beneath this hat.
The cold flame burns within him
'Til his skin's as cold as ice
And the dues he paid to get here
Are worth every sacrifice.
All the miles spend sleepy drivin'
All the money down the drain,
All the 'if I's' and 'nearly's,'
All the bandages and pain,
All the female tears left dryin',
All the fever and the fight
Are just a small down payment
On the ride he makes tonight.
It's guts and love and glory,
One mortal's chance at fame.
His legacy is rodeo
And cowboy is his name.
©Baxter Black
