Ropin Pen

Intro: Every Friday afternoon I hitch up the trailer Saddle up old Rock and ice down the cooler Drive that back road until it ends at the ropin pen There's rusted out pickups and fancy rigs $20,000 horses then there's my old stick But we're all the same the minute we ride in to the ropin pen Well I ain't no Clay or Speed But I give her hell, hell you never can tell Someday I just might be We'll turn a few steers and tell a few lies Kick back in the saddle and philosophize Most of life's problems we can probably solve 'em at the ropin' pen Solo: We Don't do it for the money hell we're always broke Just ask my old buddy Nathan what he'd pay to rope Lost a couple wifes half the fingers on his hand to the ropin' pen And It takes a little skill and a little luck And you can talk smack if you can back it up Ah but we're all friends no matter who wins here at the ropin' pen Well I ain't no Clay or Speed But I give 'er hell, hell you never can tell Someday I just might be We'll turn another pen of steers and tell a few more lies Drink another beer and hypothesize most of life's problems Hell we're gonna solve 'em at the ropin' pen See ya'll again next weekend here at the ropin' pen At the ropin' pen down at the ropin pen At the ropin' pen