I have always liked that song, but for a different reason as I will now quote from my grandfathers life story. Page 290, vol. 1 quoted below.
His (Willard Call) reputation for taming a horse spread far. Some men came into town (Bancroft, Idaho) one Sunday morning with a horse that they wanted broken. One would have little suspected that it was a twin brother to the legendary Strawberry Roan. It was a beautiful animal, well worthy on infinite pains to break it to ride. When they sent for Willard he was on his way to Sunday School but he stopped to admire the horse and talk to the owner.
"Son, it's a fine animal." the owner spoke softly and stroked the horses shoulder. "He just doesn't understand. He seems to think he's supposed to buck--that, that is what is expected of him.
"I don't do this sort of thing on Sunday.". Willard repeated as he too stroked the glossy coat.
"I've got a long way to go." The owner started to urge, then suddenly struck out his hand in good-willed resignation. His big fingers closed over Willard's slender ones. "Thanks anyway."
But the croud was not to be denied it's holiday. More people had drifted up from the streets. The horses reputation had preceded it and the news spread fast that he was in town.
"Come on Willie! Scratch him a little." A Rudy urged. A few more took up the cause and wondered aloud if this priestly devotion might be a cover for his lack of courage.
Having never been thrown, Willard climbed onto the worst bronc he ever rode. There was no Sunday School that day. Young and old, saint and sinner were on the streets waiting for the outcome. Once he was thrown onto the horse's neck, striking the saddle horn as he went. There was a stunning shock. He fought down the pain and regained his seat. When the horse gave up, he got off, walked around it and remounted. The horse remained subdued. He had won again. The accomplishment added to his stature as a bronc buster but subtracted from his life a priceless possession. In later years, when his health failed, it was discovered as a contributing factor that his lower back bone (the coccyx) had been broken.
End of quote.
I never met my grandfather. He died about a year before I was born. He was quite a cowboy when young. He had a set of pearl gripped revolvers that he wore everywhere until he met my grand mother. When she ask him where he was going, he said to get married you comming. She said "Not as long as you wear those pistols." He took them off and never wore them again.
I Liked the song and thought you-all would enjoy the story of my grandfather riding the twin brother to the horse in the song and it just might be why I like revolvers.
Steve