I was hangin' 'round town, just spendin' my
time; Out of a job, not earnin' a dime,
When a fella steps up and he says, I suppose
You're a bronc fighter, from the looks of your clothes.

He figgers me right, I'm a good one I claim;
Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?
He says he's got one, a bad one to buck.
At throwin' good riders he's had lotsa luck.

I gets all het up, and I ask what he pays
To ride this old nag for a couple of days?
He offered me ten, and I said, I'm your man!
The bronc never lived that I couldn't fan!

He said get your saddle, I'll give you a chance;
In his buckboard we hops and he drives to the ranch.
I stayed 'til mornin' and right after chuck
I steps out to see if this outlaw can buck.

Down in the horse corral, standin' alone,
Is an old caballo, a strawberry roan;
His legs are all spavined, he's got pigeon toes,
Little pig eyes and a big roman nose,

Little pin ears that touch at the tip.
A big forty-four brand was on his left hip,
Ewe-necked and, oh, a long lower jaw...
I could see with one eye he's a regular outlaw!

I gets the blinds on him, and it sure is a fright;
Next comes my saddle, and I screws it down tight,
Then I steps on 'im and I raises the blinds,
Get out' the way, boys, he's gonna unwind!

He sure is a frog-walker, he heaves a big sigh--
He only lacks wings for to be on the fly,
He turns his ol' belly right up to the sun,
He sure is a sun-fishin' son-of-a-gun!

He's about the worst bucker I've seen on the range,
He'll turn on a nickel and give you some change;
He hits on all fours an' goes up on high,
Leaves me a-spinnin' up there in the sky.

I turns over twice, an' I comes back to earth--
I lights there a-cussin' the day of his birth,
I know there are ponies that I cannot ride;
There's some of them left, they haven't all died;
I'll bet all my money the man ain't alive
That'll stay with ol' Strawberry, when he takes his high dive.

OLD RED
Words and music by Marty Robbins

Old Red was one of the orn'ryest yet
I'd seen at the big rodeo
He'd bite you and kick you and stomp out your life
Old Red had never been rode.

Meaner than sin wild as the wind
That blew on the Montana plains
Old Red was one of the last of his breed
Wasn't about to be tamed.

From Idaho a young cowboy came
To ride in the big rodeo
The young cowboy's name was Billy McLane
And Billy had never been throwed.

The greatest desire filled young Billy's heart
To ride this old outlaw called Red
He drew him one day and I heard Billy say
"I'll ride 'im or drop over dead."

Old Red was wicked down there in the chute
He was kickin' and stompin' about
Billy climbed into the saddle with ease Then yelled:
"Turn 'im loose let us out."

Old Red came out with his head on the ground
His back hooves were touchin' his nose
Tryin' to get rid of the man on his back
But the man went wherever he'd go.

Billy was rakin' Old Red with his spurs
From his tail to the tip of his chin
He was doin' right well but Billy could tell
This outlaw would never give in.

Old Red was runnin' straight for the fence
Suddenly stoppin' and then
He reared on his hind legs and fell on his back
Takin' poor Billy with him.

There was a hush in the crowd and they knew
This would be Billy's last ride
The saddle horn crushed Billy's chest when they fell
And under Old Red Billy died.

Old Red lay still no more would he move
The cowboys that seen it could tell
In tryin' to throw Billy off of his back
Old Red broke his neck when he fell.

Out in the west is the place where they rest
This cowboy that never was throwed
And one foot away resting there 'neath the clay
Is the outlaw that never was rode.

GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY
Written by Stan Jones
(As performed by Marty Robbins)

CHORUS:

Yippee-ai-ay, yippee-ai-oh
Ghost riders in the sky

An old cowpoke went riding out, one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty bunch of red-eyed cows he saw
Plowin' through the ragged skies, and up a cloudy draw

REPEAT CHORUS

Their brands were still on fire and their hoofs were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered thru' the sky
As he saw the riders comin' hard, and he heard their mournful cry

REPEAT CHORUS

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat
They're ridin' hard to catch that herd, but they ain't caught 'em yet
'Cause you gotta ride forever on that range up in the sky
On horses snortin' fire, as they ride on, hear their cry

REPEAT CHORUS

As the riders went on by him, he heard one call his name
If you wanna save your soul from ever ridin' on our range
Then, cowboy, change your way today or with us you will ride
Tryin' to catch the devil's herd, across the endless skies

REPEAT CHORUS

Ghost riders in the sky
© Edwin H. Morris & Company, Inc. (BMI)

I RIDE AN OLD PAINT

I ride an old Paint, I'm leadin' old Dan
I'm goin' to Montan' just to throw the houlihan,
They feed in the coulees, they water in the draw
Their tails are all matted, their backs are all raw.

CHORUS:

Ride around, little dogies, ride around them slow,
For they're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go.

Old Bill Jones had two daughters and a song,
One went to Denver, the other went wrong.
His wife, she died in a poolroom fight
But still he keeps singing from morning to night:

When I die, take my saddle from the wall
And put it on my pony, and lead him from his stall;
Tie my bones to his back, turn our faces to the west
And we'll ride the prairies that we love the best.

MR. ED THEME SONG
"Mister Ed" by Ray Evans and Jay Livingston

A horse is a horse
Of course of course
And no one can talk to a horse,
Of course
That is, of course
Unless the horse
Is the famous Mister Ed!

Go right to the source
And ask the horse
He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse
He's always on a steady course
Talk to Mister Ed!

People yakkity-yak a streak
And waste your time of day
But Mister Ed will never speak
Unless he has something to say!

Oh, a horse is a horse
Of course, of course
And this one'll talk 'til his voice is hoarse
You never heard of a talking horse?
Well, listen to this:
". . . I am Mister Ed!"