He stood out in the Cheyenne area dust by the latch on chute number fourThe young cowboys were laughin' at him and at the out of date clothes that he woreThough his trophy buckle was old it told of the glory he surely had seenAnd the beard that showed neath his old John B was wirey silver sheenWith a plug in his lip from his back pocket rip and his faded old denim jeans blueWhere a halo show white like a moon in the nightWas a hole where his snoozed worn throughHe spat in the dust and he bitterly cussed as the bull tried to tear down the chuteThen he looked up at me with a gleam in his eyeAnd he placed his old hand on my bootHe said you'll ride this old bull on your worst ever dayWith your hind leg chained to a treeAs I am made ready to concur the brute here's an old song my old man sang to meGo ridin' young cowboy go winnin' and goin' out boyDon't let him put you on the groundGo spur him young cowboy de fur him riding out boyShow 'em that your Oklahoma boundWell I marked eighty points and I won me the roundThe fans in the stands went plum wildWell I could see my old daddy just a dancin' a jigWell I looked up to the Lord and I smiledI said thanks for my good arm and thanks for my luckAnd thanks that I'm still fit and youngBut thanks most of all for them old bulls that buckFor my dad and the song that he sungGo ridin' young cowboy...Well I've been down the road many miles since that dayThings ain't changed much since I've begunI still think of my dad when I'm ropin' one up and I sing his song to my sonGo ridin' young cowboy...Go ridin' young cowboy...