Tom Z Reeves

Tom Z. Reeves

He sees the world
From an A fork tree.
Approved by the association,
Not for you and me.

An ol’ bronk saddle,
Custom built for the trade.
Made for bad buckers,
Not a parade.

He sits up there
Like a king on a throne.
Buckin’ rein in one hand,
He could talk on the phone.

At the end of July,
He’s top of the list.
If that Aussie catches up,
I’ll surely be pissed.

‘Cause he’s a genuine cowboy
And a gentleman too.
He’ll shake your hand
And visit with you.

If your lady is with you,
It’s most certain that,
She’ll get from Tom
A tip of his hat.

Born in South Dakota
Out from Eagle Butte.
He’ll ride any bronk
They’ll put in a chute.

Cowboy Christmas is over.
The season’s half done.
So far it’s been
A mighty fine run.

I just bought my tickets
For the NFR.
They’re sittin’ there,
In the top dresser drawer.

The plane ticket is ordered.
On that fine plastic card.
I’m goin’ to Vegas
And root for my pard.

I know he can ride
Any horses they buck.
But I just got to be there,
And wish him GOOD LUCK!!!!!