Well it's bulls and blood;
It's dust and mud;
It's the roar of a Sunday Crowd.
It's the white in his knuckles;
The gold in the buckle
He'll win the next go 'round.
It's boots and chaps;
It's cowboy hats;
It's spurs and latigo.
It's the ropes and the reins,
And the joys and the pains,
And they call the thing: Rodeo!