Rodeo Jim
Rodeo Jim had a thing about him.
His hat was too big, and his pants were too slim.
And he rode facing backwards, one hand on the tail,
While the other would always just helplessly flail.
His shoes didn’t match, they never were tied
And when riding he’d always hang off to one side.
His technique was awful, his style was worse
And people would laugh, but only at first
Since no one could beat him of the thousands who tried
That Rodeo Jim just knew how to ride
He’d always win, but never heard the cheers
Because that big old hat covered up his ears.
Yet it wasn’t applause that mattered to him
It was his passion to ride that made Rodeo Jim.
His hat was too big, and his pants were too slim.
And he rode facing backwards, one hand on the tail,
While the other would always just helplessly flail.
His shoes didn’t match, they never were tied
And when riding he’d always hang off to one side.
His technique was awful, his style was worse
And people would laugh, but only at first
Since no one could beat him of the thousands who tried
That Rodeo Jim just knew how to ride
He’d always win, but never heard the cheers
Because that big old hat covered up his ears.
Yet it wasn’t applause that mattered to him
It was his passion to ride that made Rodeo Jim.
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