| Gather round boys and a tale I will tell about Joade the rodeo clown
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| This happy feller keep the cowboys together after they hit the ground
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| He once was a fighter and a saddle bronc rider and all around hell of a hand
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| But a bull got him down away from the clown he lived but not ride again
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| But rodeo was burned deep in his soul and his heart just wouldn’t let go
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| He didn’t want cowboys hooked by the bulls so he took to clowin' the show
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| With grease paint and red nose and baggy old clothes
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| His track shoes barreled and bloomed
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| He earned his keep a fightin' the bulls and savin' us hard ridin' fools
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| I was down in the well and hung in my rope in a show in old west Texas town
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| The man who saved me from chain and hells was Joade the rodeo clown
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| The bull gored old Joade with his terrible old horns
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| Then stomped and mauled him around
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| One of my buddies dragged me away but Joade lay dead on the ground
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| The preacher they found for the funeral well he didn’t have a whole lot to say
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| He didn’t know Joade or about rodeo life so all he could do was to pray
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| There’s many a cowboy that owes him his life and the children all loved him too
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| There were lines on his face and each one was a trace
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| Of the laughter the miles and the blues
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| So barkeep get with it and set em up again I’m buyin' this next round
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| And if there’s any man here who can’t drink to old Joade
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| Then he better just get the hell out |