| Gray and chalky
|
| Like my granddaddy’s skin,
|
| The sky was cold and lonely
|
| And closin' in
|
| All the trees look
|
| Like stubble
|
| On winter’s chin
|
| And I think
|
| I’ll ride my pony
|
| There’s a wreath of bone’s
|
| And ribbon hangin' on
|
| My cabin door
|
| Lusty appetites have ravaged
|
| All of summer’s stores
|
| And the fear of death
|
| Don’t even come
|
| To visit me no more
|
| So I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| Ridin' someplace lonesome
|
| Has no meaning
|
| Ridin' somewhere
|
| I ain’t stayed to long
|
| Ridin' down
|
| A mountain side careening
|
| Ridin' up some open cut
|
| With fate my only song
|
| I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| Well the horseman you might say
|
| He is a slave to the Brute
|
| But he loves that beast of burden
|
| And there is no substitute
|
| For the pleasure of his saddle
|
| Or the leather of his boot
|
| So I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| Had a girl in Dickson County
|
| And we rode the Highland Rim
|
| She kept my cabin warm in winter
|
| And mended every hem
|
| And I would have took her with me
|
| But that trail never ends
|
| So I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| Ridin' where spring
|
| Comes up like roses
|
| Wraps it’s thorns
|
| And petals 'round my mind
|
| Ridin' somewhere
|
| Only God supposes
|
| I could ever dream
|
| Of gettin' to,
|
| From sneakin' up behind
|
| I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| I think I’ll ride my pony
|
| I think I’ll ride my pony |