Pratica: Open the Gate

I heard you died out in Cheyenne

With my mother's ring on your hand

A note in your pocket said I love you till I die

I can hear the bulls are coming to claim what they've been huntin'

The son of a cowboy can't claim his daddy's right

And my baby, she's been cryin' at the thought of me dyin'

She knows there's no stopping a man and his foolish pride

So, open the gates, I'm here to prove

I'm better than my father was

And where he came from, too

Open the gates, I'm here to ride To-hell-I-go, with daddy by my side

And I ain't never feared nothing that was four legged and buckin'

Throw me on a hurricane and I'll ride it to the coast

You'll never know that your son came to do what you should've done

On a summer day a long time ago, top a bull named To-hell-I-go

So, open the gates, I'm here to prove

I'm better than my father was

And where he came from, too

Open the gates, I'm here to ride To-hell-I-go, with daddy by my side

Will I die out in Cheyenne with my baby there cryin'?

In a belly that's been growin' by the day

And I know that my son will do what his father should've done

A long, long time ago on a bull named To-hell-I-go

So, open the gates, he's here to prove

He's better than his father was

And where he came from too

Open the gates he's here to ride To-hell-I-go's calf

The daddy by his side