SONGS OF FISHING, SHEEP AND GUNS IN MONTANA
© Greg Keeler 1987

The Miles City Buckin' Horse Sale

Last springtime in Wyoming I was mendin' fence
For a rancher named Orville Hale.
Days was so hot and the nights long enough
To make a tough sonvabitch turn pale.
So I asked my boss for a few days off
Just to get me some peace of mind,
But I had to admit that the weather wasn't it.
I had a bad case of women on my mind.
Then his face puckered up and he spit a wad
Of Day's Work on the ground.
Said "When I was young, every once in a while
I'd have to take off and fool around.

If I was you, I'd head up north
Toward the eastern Montana line
Where the bars are wild and the women are too.
The combination make a man feel fine."
I said, "That sounds real good, but eastern Montana's
Got a hell of a lot of trail."
He said, "Far as I'm concerned, there's just one place that counts.
That's the Miles City Buckin' Horse Sale."
I didn't know about him but a buckin' horse
Wasn't my idea of fun.
He said from what he knew, it was just an excuse
For the gals to go out and get undone.

So a couple days later, I found myself
Headin' on into town
With a fifth of Black Velvet and a bottle of Old Spice
And a mind full of foolin' around.
I checked into a hotel room then headed for a bar
And proceed to get me a buzz,
But no sooner had I started than I looked back in the corner
By the juke box and there she was,
With her Dolly Parton hair-do and her Dolly Parton smile
And her Dolly Parton God knows what else.
As I stumbled toward the juke box, I don't know quite what possessed me.
I could hardly control myself.


Before I knew it, I was buyin' her drinks
And invitin' her up to my room.
And she was playin' right along. while in the background a sad song
Made me wonder if I'd made my move too soon.
But later on that evening, it all seemed to be all right
As we slipped in between the sheets
And made wild abandoned love in that hotel room above
All the cussin' and fightin' in the streets.
Well, I never met a woman that made me feel quite like
Such a pistol packin' son of a gun.
As I drifted off all satisfied, I dreamed about her Dolly eyes
And knew that I had finally found the one.

Early that next mornin', I was feelin' my oats,
So I reached across the bed.
That lady wasn't there but at the mirror combin' her hair,
And this here is what she said.
"Listen buckaroo, I'm splittin' from this scene,
'Cause last night was just a waste of my time.
You might be tall in the saddle but you're short in the jeans."
Then she turned 'round and flipped me a dime.
Well, in all of my life, I'd never heard words that quite
Sent so much blood into my face.
As I chased her to the door, she dropped me to the floor
With a swift kick in just the wrong place.

So if you're ever mendin' fence out near Kaycee, Wyoming
For a rancher named Orville Hale,
Don't take his advice 'bout what he says is mighty nice
If you want to stay a full fledged male,
'Cause you might find yourself with your manhood all deflated
And a feelin' that you'll always fail.
Take it from one cowboy who got shot out of the saddle
At the Miles City Buckin' Horse Sale.