Make An Eight
If the good lords a-willin’, and the creek don’t rise.
Ill bare down and make an eight second ride.
But if I fail to make that ride, ill still hold my head up high,
And draw that bronc another time.
Well the good lord was a-willin’
He was on my side.
I got to draw that bronc for a re-ride.
I looked that old mare straight in the eyes,
And said im going to make one hell of a ride.
Well I sat down on that buck-skin mare
Stuck my hand in my riggin
And pulled my hat down over my ears.
Well she bailed outa there like she was on fire.
My dual-rals were a clicking
As she jumped higher
She bucked to the left
She bucked to the right
But I stuck it to her with all my might.
Well I went the full eight but I wanted more,
So I just juiced her til the pickup man said no more.
So I bailed off,
Threw my hat in the air.
And had one hell of a grin
From ear to ear.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Make An Eight by Jimmie Waters )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933)
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