Week Forty-Three: “Man in the Can”

 

 

I’m the man in the can
don’t you call me no clown
when the livestock’s a-trampling
and the rider is down
I spring quick into action
I can’t rest for a minute
I’m the man in the can
and I ain’t got no limit

Had my front teeth knocked out
almost once lost an eye
and my bones get to aching
when a storm is close by
no sweetheart gets frisky
when I walk in the room
my hair sticks straight out
like the straw in a broom

I’m the man in the can
the man in the can
I laugh when I’m frightened
I bounce when I land
and all you young riders
would be dead without me
I’m the man in the can
and that’s how it should be

My greasepaint smells funny
and it’s hell to get off
I used to smoke cigarettes
now I just cough
but my name travels wide
with the people who matter
When the rodeo’s in town
you can bet I’ll be at her

I’m the man in the can
the man in the can
I laugh when I’m frightened
I bounce when I land
and all you young riders
would be dead without me
I’m the man in the can
and that’s how it should be

I don’t count on retiring
I don’t expect to be mourned
I been silly and lonely
since the day I was born
But if Jesus is with me
he knows I would choose
to die with my feet
in some oversized shoes

I’m the man in the can
the man in the can
I laugh when I’m frightened
I bounce when I land
and all you young riders
would be dead without me
I’m the man in the can
and that’s how it should be

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