Snowville
Wayne Nelson
Snowville, he’s an albino bull, a legend in his time
His pink eyes glowing like cinders, and his horns spread sharp and wide
A hide of pure white satin that shinned like Texas hail
‘Cept for his brand and a green spot under the tail
Snowville made his livin’ on the circuit radio
Sent them riders flying and the clowns runnin’ to and fro
If a rider drew ‘ol Snowville you could bet your Wrangler shirt
You either got a high point ride or a face full o’blood and dirt
Now Rufus rode his share o’bulls ‘fore he became a clown
And underneath all that makeup that cowboy’s face was brown
The riders paid him tribute none could put him down
They knew their lives was in his hands once they hit the ground
Now Rufus and ‘Ol Snowville had done many a rodeo
The crowds watched Snowville send that clown on many a barrel roll
They respected one another ’twas more like play than fight
And Snowville got some extra grain behind the chutes at night
‘Twas in a place down South of here when Rufus was all alone
His mouth was dry as cotton that hot old afternoon
He walked into the nearest bar all he wanted was a beer
But the bouncer took one look at him said, “ Y’all can’t drink in here!’
Now Rufus got steamed up all right he thought he’d paid his dues
He left that place remembering why his people sang the blues
Being just a tad outnumbered he left without a fight
Headed back to the rodeo grounds and borrowed a truck that night
Well.. that honky-tonk was really jumping with that hooraw hee haw sound
The band was on its second break sluggin’ that bourbon down
There was cards and dice and dancing Wild Turkey, beer and Gin
When the back door busted open and Snowville wondered in
History got made that night as Snowville changed the rules
Sent the bouncer to the ladies room and the barmaid wet her stool
Sent the pool table flying wedged up against the door
Then knocked the lights out with his horns when he jumped behind the bar
Snowville stomped and snorted rackin’ bottles off the shelves
With his foot stuck in a spittoon keeping time with his brass bell
With the barkeep’s apron draped across the horns before his eyes
He spun and chased a pool shark halfway across that dive
The barroom floor was inches deep in beer and whiskey foam
Snowville stopped just long enough to add a little of his own
Pabst Blue Ribbon mixes with Coors, Vodka mixed with draft
He was headed for the bandstand through it all he bucked and splashed
The bass player tried to reach the door but dodged behind an amp
As Snowville hooked the pedal steel and wore it for a hat
The piano made a mournful honk as his tail struck a chord
He whirled and charged that baby grand and turned it into boards
The Snowville stopped abruptly and made to paw the ground
He squared off with the jukebox it was Ernest Tubbs turn now
And the colored lights exploded as him and Nashville did collide
And filled the air like falling rain with top forty forty-fives
Well the bouncer he was praying in the second toilet stall
As Snowville charged the mirror outside and his head broke through the wall
And the last thing he remembered what he told the boys in blue
Was this black man’s face askin’ him, “is he white enough for you!”
Well they tell me that Rufus spent his nest egg on a ranch
He’s raising up some bucking stock, he’s got an outside chance
They say them Brahma calves are white and shine like Texas hail
‘Cept for a brand on their left hip and a green patch under the tail
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