He wakes up at the first light of dawn. The old pickup seat sure is hard and cold. He steps outside and stretches his tired bones. And asks himself again if he's too old. But he's just doin' what he wants to do. He knows that sign-in time is nine o'clock, And he's still two hours from where he needs to be. So he gets back in and cranks the motor up, Wiping off the frost so he can see. Then he heads out to do what he wants to do. His life is the road, and the rodeos. The bulls and the eight-second ride. He may be too old, but he just won't quit, Because of his stubborn cowboy pride. He knows there's no way he can give it up, 'Though his family and friends all ask him to. But he's happiest when he's strapped to dynamite, And doin' what he wants to do! He gets to the arena just in time, To put up his fee, and draw his lot. He checks the slip, and sees number 109. The stock man says, "That's the rankest bull we got! Boy, I sure hope you like doin' what you do!" The bull is in the chute, and rigged to go. He stands behind, wrapiing his knees and hand. The clown slaps his back as he walks by, And says, "I'll be all the help to you I can, "cause helpin' you is what I'm here to do." He pulls his rope, and takes the final wrap, As his body is bound to the mangy black hide. Prays to God to let him hear the bell, Then leans back,and yells, "Let's ride!" As once again, he does what he wants to do. The bull and rider explode from chute. He never knew he made the final bell. The crowd became hushed, and and rose to their feet. As they watch the unlucky cowboy as he fell. For the last time, he did what he wanted to do. His life was the rode, and the rodeos. The bulls and the eight-second ride. He may have been too old, but he just wouldn't quit, Because of his stubborn cowboy pride. He knew there was no way he would give it up, 'Though his family and friends all asked him to. Because he was happiest strapped to dynamite, And doin' what he wanted to do. It was over before anyone could reach him. 2000 pounds of Hell had put him down. "Oh God, why couldn't I have just got to him?" The angry tears rolled on the face of the clown. "Maybe there was something I could do!" Now he's laid to rest in his native Texas. And one thing is certain, if nothing else is true. He was a good man who lived life to the fullest. And he died doin' what he wanted to do. Yes, he died doin' what he LOVED to do! Copywrite 1992 by Stephanie Harrison
