(Clarke)
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She could dance and slow you 'bout, shuffle to some cowboy hustle.
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How she made those trophy buckles shine, shine, shine.
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Wild-eyed in Mexican silver, tricking dumb old cousin Willard
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into thinking that he got her this time.
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Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
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Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
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She's a rawhide roping velvet mixture, walking, talking Texas texture,
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high-timing, barroom fixture kind of a girl.
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She's a queen of the cowboys, look at old Willard grinning now, boys,
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you'd have thought there's less fools in this world.
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Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
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Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
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Good luck Willard, and here's to ya, and here's to Rita, I hope she'll do ya right all night.
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But I wish I was a fool in your shoes.
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Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
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Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
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Lord, I wish I was in Texas, I would ride a bull for you.
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Rita Ballou
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| John Denver |
