My love is a rider,
wild horse says he'll break,
Though he promised to give
it up just for my sake.
His foot in the stirrup,
the saddle puts on,
With a hop and a swing he is
mounted and gone.
The first time I seen him t 'was early in spring,
he was riding a bronco, a high -headed thing.
He laughed and he winked as along he did go,
and he wished me to look at his buck in bronco.
He made me some presents,
among them a ring,
But the present I gave him
was a far greater
thing.
T 'was my young maidenhead,
I will have you all know,
He has won it by riding his buck in
Bronco.
T 'was ne 'er the
Arroyo he first laid me down,
He was dressed for the round -up,
and I wore a gown.
Then he wiped off his chaps,
so the stains wouldn't show,
And he turned and rode off on
his bucking bronco.
My love had a gun that
was sturdy and long,
But he wore it to visit the lady gone wrong.
Oh, once it was strong,
it shot straight and true,
Now it wobbles and it buckles,
and it's red, white, and blue.
Young maidens,
take warning where 'er you reside,
Beware of the cowboy that swings the ride.
He'll love you, he'll lay you,
and one day he'll go in the spring
Up the trail on his bucking bronco.