ALL THIS WAY FOR THE SHORT RIDE
TOM RUSSELL
Strum E ' Spoken:
It's impossible, when dust settlin to the backs of large animals make a racket you can't think.
Impossible to conceive that pure fear whether measured in degrees of cold or heat can both freeze
and incinerate so much'.in mere seconds.
[E]WHEN THE CHUTE GATE WINGS [A]OPEN, HERE WE GO [E]AGAIN
[E]THE DESPARATE [A]DANCE, THE KICK AND THE [E]SPIN
[E]DUST RISIN FROM A [C#m]CROSS BRED BULL, FIRE MEETS WITH [G#m]PRIDE
[G#m]THE MAN'S COME [A]A LONG WAY, JUST FOR THE SHOR[E]T RIDE
HIS WIFE'S IN THE GRANDSTANDS, TRYIN TO SWALLOW THE FEAR
A LITTLE BABY INSIDE HER, WHO'S TIME'S DRAWING NEAR
THE BULLS FLYING HIGH NOW, THEN HE FALLS TO HIS SIDE
THEIR LOVE CAME A LONG WAY, JUST FOR THE SHORT RIDE
[E]TWO HEARTS IN THE D[C#m]ARKNESS, SING A BLUE [G#m]LULLABY
[G#m]BEAT THE DRUM S[A]LOWLY, FOR A COWBOY'S LAST [E]RIDE
AND WHEN THE DUST HAD ALL SETTLED AND THE CROWD DISAPPEARED
THE SIRENS STILL ECHO, IN AN UNBORN CHILDS EAR
LITTLE BOYS DUE IN APRIL, HE HAS HIS DADDY'S BLUE EYES
HE'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER, HIS FATHER'S LAST RIDE
[E]THEY PREACHED AT THE [C#m]SERVICE, FROM JOHN [G#m]25
[G#m]HOW CHRIST CAME ALONG [A]WAY, JUST FOR THE SHORT [E]RIDE
[E]BEAT THE DRUM [G#m]SLOWLY, F[A]OR A COWBOY'S LAST [E]RIDE
[E]WELL THE CHUTE GATE SWINGS [A]OPEN, HERE WE GO [E]AGAIN
TOM RUSSELL
Strum E ' Spoken:
It's impossible, when dust settlin to the backs of large animals make a racket you can't think.
Impossible to conceive that pure fear whether measured in degrees of cold or heat can both freeze
and incinerate so much'.in mere seconds.
[E]WHEN THE CHUTE GATE WINGS [A]OPEN, HERE WE GO [E]AGAIN
[E]THE DESPARATE [A]DANCE, THE KICK AND THE [E]SPIN
[E]DUST RISIN FROM A [C#m]CROSS BRED BULL, FIRE MEETS WITH [G#m]PRIDE
[G#m]THE MAN'S COME [A]A LONG WAY, JUST FOR THE SHOR[E]T RIDE
HIS WIFE'S IN THE GRANDSTANDS, TRYIN TO SWALLOW THE FEAR
A LITTLE BABY INSIDE HER, WHO'S TIME'S DRAWING NEAR
THE BULLS FLYING HIGH NOW, THEN HE FALLS TO HIS SIDE
THEIR LOVE CAME A LONG WAY, JUST FOR THE SHORT RIDE
[E]TWO HEARTS IN THE D[C#m]ARKNESS, SING A BLUE [G#m]LULLABY
[G#m]BEAT THE DRUM S[A]LOWLY, FOR A COWBOY'S LAST [E]RIDE
AND WHEN THE DUST HAD ALL SETTLED AND THE CROWD DISAPPEARED
THE SIRENS STILL ECHO, IN AN UNBORN CHILDS EAR
LITTLE BOYS DUE IN APRIL, HE HAS HIS DADDY'S BLUE EYES
HE'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER, HIS FATHER'S LAST RIDE
[E]THEY PREACHED AT THE [C#m]SERVICE, FROM JOHN [G#m]25
[G#m]HOW CHRIST CAME ALONG [A]WAY, JUST FOR THE SHORT [E]RIDE
[E]BEAT THE DRUM [G#m]SLOWLY, F[A]OR A COWBOY'S LAST [E]RIDE
[E]WELL THE CHUTE GATE SWINGS [A]OPEN, HERE WE GO [E]AGAIN
