I was laying round town just spending my time,
Out of a job and not makin' a dime,
When up steps a feller and he says, "I suppose
That you're a bronc rider by the looks of your clothes?"

He guesses me right. "And a good one I'll claim.
Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?"
He says he's got one that's a good one to buck,
And at throwing good riders he's had lots of luck.

He says this old pony has never been rode.
And the man that gets on him is bound to be throwed.
I gets all excited and I ask what he pays
To ride this old pony a couple of days.

He says, "Ten dollars." I says, "I'm your man;
The bronc never lived that I cannot fan;
The bronc never tried nor never drew breath
That I cannot ride till he starves plumb to death."

He says, "Get your saddle. I'll give you a chance."
We got in the buggy and went to the ranch.
We waited till morning, right after chuck.
I went out to see if that outlaw could buck.

Down in the corral, a-standin' alone,
Was this little old caballo, a strawberry roan.
He had little pin ears that touched at the tip
And a big forty-four brand was on his left hip.

He was spavined all round and he had pidgeon toes,
Little pig eyes and a big Roman nose.
He was U-necked and old with a long lower jaw —
You could tell at a glance he was a regular outlaw.

I buckled on my spurs, I was feeling plumb fine,
I pulled down my hat and I curls up my twine,
I threw the loop at him, right well I knew then,
Before I had rode him I'd sure earn my ten.

I got the blind on him with a terrible fight,
Cinched on the saddle and girdled it tight;
Then I steps up on him and pulled down the blind
And sat there in the saddle to see him unwind.

He bowed his old neck and I'll say he unwound,
He seemed to quit living down there on the ground;
He went up to the east and came down to the west
With me in the saddle, a-doing my best.

He sure was frog-walkin', I heaved a big sigh,
He only lacked wings for to be on the fly;
He turned his old belly right up to the sun,
For he was a sun-fishin' sun of a gun.

He was the worst bronco I've seen on the range,
He could turn on a nickel and leave you some change.
While he was buckin' he squalled like a shoat,
I tell you that outlaw, he sure got my goat.

I tell all the people that pony could step
And I was still on him a-buildin' a rep;
He came down on all fourse and turned up on his side,
I don't see how he kept from losing his hide.

I lost my stirrups, I lost my hat,
I was pullin' at leather as blind as a bat;
With a phenomenal jump he made a high dive
And set me a-winding up there through the sky.

I turned forty flips and came down to the earth
And sit there a-cussing the day of his birth.
I know there's some ponies that I cannot hide,
Some of them living, they haven't all died.

But I bet all money there's no man alive
That can ride Old Strawberry when he makes that high dive.

- Curley Fletcher (1915)

[Note: "The Strawberry Roan," also popular song.]

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