Buck Brudrop loaned his wife,
Loaned her for his booze and game.
Buck rode to hell and back,
Saw his chance and lost his way
And burned his bridges in a single day,
Gave his wishes on a passing horse,
Lost his bet in a rush of hands,
Kissed his night in a lonely bed,
Fed his dreams in a turning room
And whispered his heart and gloom
To the moonlit night and his absent wife
And the dying dog of his life.
