They got me to ride a bull in a West Texas rodeo!
I fell off and broke my head;
Took all of about a second and a half.
The son-of-a-gun would’ve liked to kill me dead.
So I decided right then and there, that if I was going be in the rodeo,
A clown was what I was gonna be.
I always thought I was kinda funny anyway.
Driving around the country telling all my jokes,
To all kinds of spectating folks.
Paint on my face, my barrel in place.
I always feel pretty safe hanging out with the pick-up man.
Pretty much livin’ in my minivan.
Trying to help the bullfighters with props made of old used mops.
Doing rope tricks, and trying to impress all the chicks.
Having a lot of fun.
Then when the rodeo is done,
I head to the bar, no paint on my face,
And nobody knows who I am;
‘Cause I’m not a damn bull rider, just a silly old clown.
One thought on “Nick Olson”
Awesome poem. Hope to hear more from you