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Just One More Eight Hour Tour




Just a broken down old driller
In a creaky rockin' chair,
A social security pension
Is how I get my fare.

I close my eyes and let my mind
Slowly drift away
To a darned old junk pile drilling rig
And my bygone rugged days

Oh, yes I'm getting weak,
Mean and kinda sour;
You just don't know what I'd give
For one more eight hour tour.

To hear the rattle of that ole iron,
To hear the motors beller,
To hear the pusher cuss and scream
As runs off some poor feller.

To trip pipe in the winter time
In a cold drizzling rain,
To hear the catheads sing their song
To a smokin', spinnin' chain.

Hear them squalling break blocks,
"By George, they're getting thin;
Kick out that pump clutch, Johnny:
I think we sheared a pin."

To watch the block come sailing down,
Hear that hydromatic whine
We're running late today, you know;
We had to cut the line.

Hear them motors talking,
Boy, they sure are sweet;
We're pulling her off bottom now,
From thirteen thousand feet.

To feel the throb of an ole mud hog,
While the kelly slips away;
Or catch a nap on the workbench
While they run a log survey.

To sit in a hard ole doghouse
By a steaming percolator
"Say kid, get off your can
And fill the lubricator."

If he don't keep that thing filled
Plumb up to the neck
He's apt to see that rotary chain
Show up on his next check.

The Contractor said the other day,
The last time he was around,
"If the price per foot don't come up,
He's gonna shut her down."

He says right now the outlook
Isn't very sunny
So let's all buckle down, boys,
And make the ole man some money.

I know you think I'm silly
And probably off my knob,
But me and this old rockin' chair
Don't have no fishin' job.

I'd better stop my daydreams,
The sun is going down,
I'll bet I made more hole today
Than anyone in town.

When God calls me to the other side
And I'm on my last hour,
I'm gonna pray, I'm gonna beg
For one more eight hour tour.