Mommas, Don't let your babies grow up to be Cowboys
City dude, parts where he's from
Wishing Lone star he could become
Like John Wayne, True grit then some
Wishful thinking of this someone
Our horse White, a FORD Sportrac
That guzzles gas on 1/4 mile track
No grass to feed but placed in bed
To rest ourselves and weary head
Yet sometimes we don white hat
Like Gene Autry not slim nor fat
Who fights with diets but eats cooked beans
With franks all beef, yep no love machine
Closest thing to horse we've been
Was Carousel, horse named whirlwind
That would just go round and round
While draft Root Beer on saddle pound
Time would come to hang our chaps
Replaced by scent by some old chap
Ralph Lauren if I recall
Lady killer, many would call
This Cowboy drunk with what can't be
A wish wished for in mirror, me
Yeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaa! Ride em Pilgrim
Now can somebody tell the guy who operates this ride
to shut it down, I think I'm gonna throw up
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