He ain't very special to look at,
And I really don't know how he's bred,
I know that i got 'em somewhere,
But his papers I've never read.

Some people say that he's ornery,
And ought to be left alone,
But I kinda like thinkin'
He just has a mind of his own.

He sure don't like to be curried,
And his tail being combed makes him want to fight,
And I've learned to watch out for his teeth,
If I cinch him too tight.

And mounting ain't much fun either,
That nag kicks like a mule,
And on any cripsy morning,
He's just one mean bucking fool.

But I've had him in country so rough,
A mountain goat wouldn't do well,
He seldom slips, and he never trips,
And he's never stumbled or fell.

And when I have got country to cover,
He has a free swinging lope,
He gets down when he stops, and he can spin like a top,
And he sure can handle his end of the rope.

And if I find myself in a hurry,
He can be pretty damn fast,
He's big and he's stout, and yuo can't wear him out,
And he never refuses to do what he's asked.

No, he don't measure up to a show horse,
'Cause he don't look good in the ring,
But was I to do it all over again,
He'd be my choice of the string.