You can spot 'em the way they carry themselves
You can generally tell a good hand;
They're wiry and quiet and ready for a fight,
When they're pickin' out one from the band.

Nothing fancy, fact, nothing but cowboy
Some's natural..some's gotta be taught;
See, the punchers who always stand out in a crowd,
Don't use words like no or can't or not.

Now this cowboy's day set for makin'
Yet, something has gathered with a doubt;
And the match was struck to be battled,
Left the cowboy no pass or an out.

As he straddles the span of the worn, rough sawn chute
And lowers himself down on brown hide;
The taut, braided rawhide is set to his hand,
It's time now, he's ready to ride.

"Turn 'im out boys!" he musters, .. the gate now undone
The explosion that follows immense;
He throws himself forward, and digs with his spurs,
The gate slams loudly on fence.

A twist and a leap, the young brindle strains
The cowboy snaps quick to his right;
The first frenzied moments of violence now past,
He squares on dark hide for the fight.

The tight rosined grip slowly pulled from his hand
He's unseating now heartbeats away;
A leap and a turn, he starts to unhinge,
His victory will not come today.

Though the fate of the fearless is iffy
And the trials of life so unsure;
Some outcomes just can't be prepared for,
These losses each man must endure.

In the loose clay he tumbles, and rolls to his knees
Grabs his hat, wipes the dirt from his eyes;
"You made a good ride, son!" his pa hollers out
"Should cut you a calf more your size!"

You can spot them the way they carry themselves
You can generally tell a good hand;
They're wiry and quiet and ready for a fight,
When they're pickin' one out from the band.