| Old Red was one of the orniest yet
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| I’d seen at the big rodeo
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| He’d bite you and kick you and stomp out your life
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| Old Red had never been rode
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| Meaner than sin, wild as the wind
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| That blew on the Montana plains
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| Old Red was one of the last of his breed
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| And wasn’t about to be tamed
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| From Idaho, a young cowboy came
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| To ride in the big rodeo
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| The young cowboy’s name was Billy McLean
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| And Billy had never been thrown
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| The greatest desire filled young Billy’s heart
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| To ride this old outlaw called Red
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| He drew him one day and I heard Billy say
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| «I'll ride him or drop over dead»
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| Old Red was wicked down there in the shoot
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| He was kicking and stomping about
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| Billy climbed into the saddle with ease
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| And yelled turn him loose let us out
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| Old Red came out with his head on the ground
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| His back hooves were touching his nose
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| Trying to get rid of the man on his back
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| But the man went wherever he’d go
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| Billy was raking Old Red with his spurs
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| From his tail to the tip of his chin
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| He was doing right well, but Billy could tell
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| This outlaw would never give in |
| Old Red was running straight for the fence
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| Suddenly stopping and then
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| He reared on his hind legs then fell on his back
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| Taking poor Billy with him
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| There was a hush in the crowd and they knew
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| This would be Billy’s last ride
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| The saddle horn crushed Billy’s chest when they fell
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| And under Old Red Billy died
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| Old Red lay still, no more would he move
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| The cowboys that seen it could tell
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| In trying to throw Billy off his back
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| Old Red broke his neck when he fell
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| Out in the west is a place where they rest
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| This cowboy that never was thrown
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| And one foot away resting there 'neath the clay
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| Is the outlaw that never was rode |