or
Trent Willmon

Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the trailer,
Saddle up ol' Rock an' ice down the cooler
Drive that back road until it ends,
At the ropin' pen

There's rusted out pick-ups an' fancy rigs,
Twenty-thousand dollar horses, then there's my ol' stag,
But we're all the same the minute we ride in,
To the ropin' pen

Well I ain't no Clayo Speed,
But I give her hell,
Hell, you never can tell,
Some day, I just might be

We'll turn a few steers an' tell a few lies,
Kick back in the saddle an' philosophise
Most of life's problems, we can prob'ly solve 'em,
In the ropin' pen

We don't do it for the money, hell we're always broke
Just ask my ol' buddy Nathan what he'd pay to rope
He lost a couple of wives an' the fingers on his hands,
To the ropin' pen

An' it takes a little skill an' a little luck,
An' you can talk smack if you can back it up
Ah, but we're all friends no matter who wins,
Here at the ropin' pen

Well I ain't no Clayo Speed,
But I give her hell,
Hell, you never can tell
Some day, I just might be

We'll turn another pit of steers an' tell a few more lies
Drink another beer and hypothesis
Most of life's problems, hell, we're gonna solve 'em,
In the ropin' pen

See y'all again next weekend,
Here at the ropin' pen
At the ropin' pen
Down at the ropin' pen
In the ropin' pen

Written by WILLMON, TRENT / KINNEY, BRANDON
Published by EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.